Just Grin and Bare It
by Travs
Summary: When newly-graduated doctor Harleen Quinzel is accepted as a new member of staff at Arkham Asylum, she felt as if there was no patient that she could not help. Faced with a problem like the Joker, things turned out differently. She thought that she had been curing him of his problems, when in reality he had been forcing his own upon her. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Dr Harleen Quinzel, MD

**So...hey guys and gals.**

 **This is something that I've been working on since December of last year. I've written a good few chapters so far and I have been debating on whether or not I wanted to post it or make some more fine tunings to it. This is my first time writing for this particular set of characters, most of whom I enjoy as a whole, and I hope that you all feel that I do them some justice.**

 **Most of the representations I have made of both Joker and Harley are mainly based off of David Ayer's creations for Suicide Squad, but I mixed in a bit of other Batman work here and there, including some from the Arkham games and a few quotes and speeches you may recognize from the comics.**

 **I hope you all enjoy, I have a good few chapters ready to post and go, which will be going up in the next few days.**

* * *

"I must say, Miss Quinzel, your resume is nothing short of magnificent."

Smiling, Harleen watched with pride as Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, the administrative director of Arkham Asylum, looked over her resume with a hint of a smile and the wide eyes of a surprised man. She had not thought for a minute that it would be enough for the interview at the Asylum, given everything that she had done during her education. The fact that she had gained her grades through 'unorthodox methods' was a fact only known to herself and her professors and was a fact and a story that she would like to keep under lock and key for a very, very long time.

Closing the brown paper folder and pushing it back in Harleen's direction, Dr. Arkham looked at something on his computer for a few seconds before clasping his hands together and directly addressing his interviewee. Arkham was a lithe, lanky man with a long face. His features were sullen and matched the shape of his head, with multiple frown lines and baggy eyes gracing his appearance. However, the most recognizable feature adorned on his face was his long, crooked nose on which his glasses hung low upon while he read.

Harleen was sure that she had seen a lot about Dr. Arkham prior to her interview with him. She swore that he had lectured at the university that she studied in, but Harleen never paid too much attention to the lecturerers. From what she gathered, he was a well-respected psychiatrist and well-known within the field. The last descendant and great-nephew of Arkham Asylum founder Amadeus Arkham, the renowned Jeremiah was looked upon as the inheritor of his great-uncle's psychiatric prowess and ability to help the criminally insane. She had watched many of the speeches and conferences he had spoken at, including the debates where he spoke at length about his hardline approach to his patients. Dr. Arkham was a firm believer in the use of aversion therapy in order to counteract the mental illnesses that plagued his many patients, but took great care in their well-being and made sure they were treated right in his establishment.

"You have quite an impressive background," Arkham noted, still not breaking a smile despite his obvious enthrallment with Harleen's resume. "In fact, I am positively sure that your education alone could have gotten you a job at many of the institutions in the state."

Trying her best not to blush, Harleen smiled and scratched the back of her neck. She was slightly embarassed by the praise that such a prestigious doctor like Jeremiah Arkham was heaping upon her. Sitting up straight after a few moments, she coughed a little and returned to her original posture.

"But there is one question that comes to mind when I look at all of this." Arkham tapped all the fingers on his left hand, his favoured one as far as Harleen could tell, upon his oak wood desk. "What made you want to work here of all places? We haven't exactly got the best reputation compared to other institutes, as much as I hate to admit it."

A little nervous, Harleen shifted in her seat and moved pieces of her fringe away from her glasses. She had always been interested in criminal psychology, even when she was a young kid in high school all. She wanted to know what it was like to be in the head of some of the most demented people in the world, to work alongside them and see what they were like. If she could cure them, make them decent human beings and send them out into the world, Harleen knew that she would no doubt make a fortune from the notes she would have.

"Mr. Arkham, criminal psychology has always been a passion of mine since high school." Harleen shuflfed nervously in her seat. "I've always wanted to work with some of the more interesting criminals that the world has to offer people like us. I don't want to do this job because it pays well or has a lot of benefits but because it allows me to build up a good reputation and to help the psychologically challenged people of this world. I'm hoping that this institute and its patients will allow me to do just that."

"You certainly have heart, Miss Quinzel." Dr. Arkham slowly nodded his head. "But heart doesn't count for nothing nowadays. What makes you different from another doctor who has more practical experience?"

Once again, Harleen scratched the back of her neck and tried to think of a clever and professional-sounding answer.

"I believe I have a certain way of helping these people overcome their troubles." Harleen smiled. "I want to know what makes these people tick, why they do the things they do and what events have led up to them becoming who they are now. I believe I have the right amount of desire and determination to put my theory to the test."

Rather proud of herself, Harleen sat tall in her chair and clasped her hands together.

"You have a very bold and intriguing theory, Miss Quinzel." Dr. Arkham noted. "But I cannot simply hire you because you have a desire to succeed. The people you will be working with are some of the worst criminals that have been put on this Earth. Many of the untrained psychiatrists have employed in the past have either ran away or turned up dead after brushing with some of our worst patients. Why should I risk taxpayer money and your life on a hunch and a desire?"

"Mr. Arkham, all I am asking for is one chance to show you what I can do." Harleen sighed. "I believe I can succeed where others have failed."

Chuckling a little, Dr. Arkham shook his head and smiled. "I don't think I have encountered someone who has wanted this job as much as you, Dr. Quinzel. Your desire excites me, as much as it could possibly be your downfall. I am willing to bring you on at first as an intern and assign you a doctor to shadow and help. Should you make enough progress within that time I will bring you on as a permanent part of the Arkham staff."

Harleen's eyes widened and a smile stretched across her lips. She couldn't believe it, everything she had worked for had finally paid off for her. A job at Arkham Asylum could be the break she needed to become the famous doctor she wanted to be and she had taken the first step to achieving it.

"Thank you, Mr. Arkham." Harleen grinned. "You won't regret it."

"Please, call me Jeremiah." Dr. Arkham rose from his seat and moved away from his desk, heading towards his door.

"Well, in that case call me Harleen." Harleen rose from her chair and tucked it under his desk, before joining Jeremiah near the door to his office. "Everyone does."

Smiling, Jeremiah opened the door for Harleen and watched with a smile as she walked through, before standing in the doorframe and holding his hand out.

"Harleen, I have a hunch that you could become one of the very best of us." Jeremiah smiled. "Welcome to Arkham Asylum."

"Thank you, Jeremiah." Harleen shook his hand and nodded gleefully. "I'm looking forward to working under someone with as much talent and experience as you."

"I'm flattered." Jeremiah smiled. "But hard work and determination to succeed gain you experience in my book. Have a good night's rest and I'll see you at the start of the week to sort out which doctor you shall be shadowing."

Without another word, Jeremiah bowed his head and walked back into his office, gently closing the oak wooden door behind him. Harleen sighed and walked over towards the window to her left, looking out towards the asylum grounds. She smiled and leant on the windowsill, watching the afternoon breeze rustle through the trees. It was a beautiful sight to behold, the calmness and tranquility of nature. Harleen could stay there and watch the sights for a lifetime, calm and without a care in the world.

After what felt like a lifetime in her world, Harleen was brought back to reality by a quick tap on her shoulder. Spinning around quickly in defence, Harleen was instead face-to-face with a security guard. He was a young man, little older than his early twenties. He had a clean shaven face and his helmet barely fit his head but he seemed determined and eager to get on with his job. He wore the outfit of a typical Arkham security guard, with the only thing that separating him from the rest of the grunts working at the institute was the name on his ID card, which was pinned onto a pocket above his heart. Upon quick inspection, Harleen quickly found that this man was called Eddie Burlow.

"Miss Quinzel?" Burlow asked, folding his arms. "I think your taxi has arrived outside. I've been told to escort you to the entrance."

With a smile, Harleen nodded and followed Burlow through the twisting, never-ending corridors of Arkham Asylum, passing numerous doctors wearing lab coats that she would be wearing soon and scanning an ID card which she would have. Eventually, they reached the main entrance and Harleen was sent on her way.

* * *

The sky had gone completely dark by the time the taxi had brought Harleen back to her apartment, so much that the stars and the moon had appeared between the skyscrapers. The evening was fully upon the city and the streetlights had been turned on, albeit the streets were mostly illuminated by the neon lights of the buildings. Stepping out of the taxi, Harleen paid the driver and stood on the sidewalk, looking out onto the long street that looked like it lead to nowhere. As she looked around, Harleen saw many homeless people and others that had been driven into the ground by the higher-ups.

It had become a well-known fact that Gotham City was controlled by the members of the organized crime families. The mob had ran people into the ground, taken their jobs and made the city bow to them. People like Carmine "The Roman" Falcone and Sal "The Boss" Maroni had become some of the most powerful people in the city, all because of their corrupt dealings with the underbelly of the city. Even the Batman couldn't stop the Falcone and Maroni crime families, despite taking down small-time mobsters like Warren White and Mickey Sullivan. The police force were known for being mostly all corrupt along with the entire of the mayoral office due to the rumours floating around of both Police Commissioner Gillian Loeb and even Mayor Aubrey James being in-league and in the back pocket of Falcone.

Gotham had been run into the ground like it's citizens. The only saving grace was that the mob allowed the police to take down some of the small-time gangsters and wannabe mobsters who wanted to run the city. People like Oswald Cobblepot, Roman Sionis and Maximilian Zeus had all either been brought in by the police or the Batman and were now residing in the deepest, darkest holes of Blackgate Penitentiary.

According to the Gotham Gazette, there were few honest men in this city. People like police captain James Gordon, billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne and district attorney Harvey Dent were all the honest people could rely on for a decent future, despite all the good it would do. Of course, all of this was what Harleen had learned from news reports and online sources and didn't know whether or not to take it seriously and all to heart.

Ignoring her thoughts as the current moment, Harleen sighed and began the slow stairs climb towards her apartment. It wasn't the most tedious thing to do, but nevertheless it wasn't something Harleen enjoyed. The balcony was the only thing in Harleen's mind that made up for the long staircase, but there was no such thing as a beautiful sight from a balcony in Gotham City.

By the time she had reached the door to her apartment, Harleen was ready for a relaxing night ahead. She quickly walked down the corridor and tried not to alert her neighbours to her presence, just in case some of them were bored and in need of a chat with someone they got along with. Harleen instead quickly opened her door and shut herself inside, breathing a sigh of relief as her body came to the realization that she was finally alone to her thoughts.

Settling down for the night, Harleen spent the next hour or so doing whatever she needed in order to get ready. From changing into her pyjamas, filing away the documents in her resume and ordering a pizza for her dinner, Harleen did her best to try and get herself comfortable in the apartment she had most recently rented. She had obtained it from a friend of a friend whom she had studied with at university, who wanted someone to rent it in order to get it off of his hands. The rent had been lowered due to the connection between the two, but Harleen couldn't help but think that the monthly amount was a little steep for her liking.

After her pizza had arrived, Harleen smiled and got herself comfortable on her sofa with her laptop and the pizza itself, before flicking on the TV with the remote. After flicking through a few channels featuring shows that didn't interest her, including the highly-televised and promoted fight between "The Wildcat" Ted Grant and somebody else who's name Harleen didn't manage to see. Eventually, she found a stupid romantic film that she was certain she had seen before and sat down with her food, occasionally looking at the laptop that was sat nearby on the coffee table.

During her alone time, however, Harleen was interrupted by the sound of her phone vibrating. With a smile, Harleen noticed that her Mom was calling to check how things were going. Without a second glance, Harleen accepted the call and placed the phone to her ear, waiting for a response.

"Harleen?" A voice came through from the other end. "How did it go, sweetie?"

"It went well, Mom." Harleen cheered. "I start on Monday."

"That's great, sweetie!" Her mom's voice was ecstatic. "I'm so proud of you!"

For the next few minutes, Harleen and her Mom talked about everything that was important to the pair of them, from everything back home, her brother's troubles at high school, job-related shenanigans and other things in general. Eventually, the pair ran out of subjects and decided to end their conversation, promising to call each other within the next few days to see how things were going in Gotham.

With the weight of phoning her Mother off of her shoulders, Harleen sighed and sat back on her sofa, taking up a piece of pizza and biting into it happily as she got ready for the next few days of preparation for her new job.


	2. Welcome to the Madhouse

**Thanks to both ElleQuinzel and collegegirl2017 for your reviews and your follows! I'm glad that you're enjoying already! I'd also like to extend the same gratitude to the others that have followed and favourited this story. It's all greatly appreciated.**

* * *

By the time Monday morning had rolled around, Harleen was already up and ready by the time sunlight shone through her bedroom window. Most days its was a struggle to leave the comforting bliss of her bed behind, but she had made an effort to get up and to make sure she would be nowhere near late for her first day of employment at the Asylum. Her bed was already made and the curtains drawn, something that Harleen normally forgot to do on the best of days. The idea of being late on her first day had shaken her up and made her even more determined to get there early and make a good first impression to Jeremiah and to whomever the doctor she would be shadowing. There would be a certain level of punctuality and professionalism expected of her when she was working at the Asylum and Harleen was determined to make sure she exceeded the expectations of those who looked down on her over and over again.

Having already changed into a red dress with black high heels and applied her makeup to the best of her ability, Harleen phoned for a taxi and patiently waited in her apartment for it to arrive. Checking her phone multiple times and frantically pacing the length and width of her living room, it was another twenty minutes before Harleen finally went down to street level and found her taxi waiting for her.

It wasn't long at all before Harleen found herself at the steel gates of Arkham Asylum, the shadow of the mansion in front sprawling over them in dramatic fashion. The gate itself was emblazoned with a gothic sign made of nothing but metal, showing the name of the institution in all of it's glory. The asylum was obviously of gothic fashion and was known to have had a gruesome and quite brutal history behind it. According to the things Harleen had both heard and read, the asylum was cursed. Some said it was due to the architect going insane and murdering his workers with an axe while others have had different theories.

There were also horrible rumours of what was going on behind closed doors at the Asylum, the same closed doors Harleen would soon work behind. She had heard stories of Warren White, an investor with known ties to the mob, having been deformed and driven insane by the patients of the Asylum after falsely pleading guilty when he was brought to justice by the Batman.

As they drove up to the gate, Harleen noticed the high security that had been there when she had arrived. All of the security stationed on the outside premises were armed with automatic machine rifles and security nightsticks in order to detain or injure a patient should they ever manage to get out and try to escape. One of the said guards walked up to the driver side window as they drove up, before the taxi driver explained the situation. The guard took a look at Harleen before radioing in, before nodding and allowing the car to drive through with instructions to head into the car park.

Driving up into the car park, Harleen exited the back of the taxi and quickly paid the driver the fee that they agreed, before making her way through the large wooden front doors of the building into the main entrance and foyer. Looking around, Harleen smiled and walked up to the counter, where a security guard was sat beside a reinforced, almost bank-like designed, counter.

"Welcome to Arkham." He said, almost absent-mindedly. "How can I help?"

"Hi, my name's Dr. Harleen Quinzel..." Harleen started, hoping he would have been informed of her arrival.

"Ah!" He smiled. "Dr. Quinzel, good to finally meet you. Follow me."

Standing up out of his chair, the guard signalled to someone before pressing a button in front of him and allowing Harleen through with a quick beep. He then disappeared into an ajacent room while leaving Harleen standing in the lobby to herself. He returned a few moments later with a woman dressed in a white doctors coat, holding a clipboard in her hand. With a smile, she locked eyes with Harleen and extended her hand.

"Dr. Quinzel, good to finally meet you." The doctor smiled. "My name is Dr. Joan Leland. Dr. Arkham has spoken very highly of you to me."

"I'm flattered, Dr. Leland." Harleen smiled. "I take it you are the doctor that I will be assisting?"

"For the forseeable future, yes." Leland replied. "But don't worry about all of that, I don't bite and I'm sure we'll get some good work done that'll put us both on the map."

With a smile, Dr. Leland and Dr. Quinzel shook hands and proceeded to walk into the room that the guard had brought Dr. Leland from. On the inside was an office that was quite like the one that Dr. Arkham had conducted her interview in. On one of the seats, however, was a folded up white lab coat with a small square piece of paper lying on top of it.

"I took the liberty of getting your lab coat and ID card made for you, just so we don't have to waste time with something I could easily have done on my own." Dr. Leland explained with a helpful smile. "Go ahead, try them on. Hopefully it's your size."

Nodding in agreement for a second, Harleen quickly walked over and took the items from the chair, trying them on in a gleeful state as she pushed her arms through the sleeves and adjusted the coat on her shoulders. She found that it wasn't bad, a little tight in the shoulders but would become comfortable in time through regular wear and tear and daily use. Harleen then pinned her ID card on the breast pocket of the coat and folded her arms, smiling at Dr. Leland as she finished retrieving some folders from the drawers of the desk in the middle of the room.

"I have numerous patients currently under my care but I have decided to temporarily hand them over due to your arrival." Dr. Leland handed Harleen a rather large binder. "Since I would rather treat you as a partner than an intern, I think it's better if you pick which patient we will focus on for the next few weeks."

Opening the binder, Harleen flicked through the pages. It was the personal file of Dr. Leland and all of the patients that she had treated during her time at the Asylum. The largest dossier with the most notes in the binder was that of Arnold Wesker, whom Harleen knew by his name in the tabloids as "The Ventriloquist". Quickly skimming over the notes, Harleen realized that Wesker suffered from dissociative identity disorder and that his psychotic tendencies were manifested into his ventriloquist dummy, which was cleverly called Scarface due to its design as a 1920s mobster.

Eventually, Harleen's eyes were drawn to a particularly strange picture. It was of a rather small man dressed in an absurdly-large bowtie and eccentric top hat. His front teeth were buckteeth and tufts of ginger hair were sticking out from his hat and ran all the way down his face in the form of uncontrolled, bushy sideburns. Reading further in, Harleen found his name was Jervis Tetch and he was once a skilled research scientist who now believes he is the 'Mad Hatter' from the Alice in Wonderland story.

"Have you decided?" Dr. Leland enquired, snapping Harleen out of her thoughts.

"What about this one?" Harleen raised her eyebrow and handed the binder back to Dr. Leland.

"Ah, Dr. Tetch." Leland sighed, looking down at the dossier. "Quite a sad case, in my opinion. From what he's told me, Tetch was one of the main scientists at WayneTech once, before he was framed for stealing prototypes by mostly likely a jealous colleague, as he describes it."

"That's horrible." Harleen gasped.

"Yes, it is. But that's Gotham for you." Leland nodded. "From my deductions, I believe that Jervis is suffering from a form of extreme schziophrenia and paranoia. He is a true product of insanity. He's so concerned that people are trying to steal his work that he has locked himself away and made himself a part of the one thing that he enjoys: Alice in Wonderland."

"Does he believe your theory?" Harleen folded her arms.

"Oh of course not." Dr. Leland chuckled. "We've definitely got a way to go with him."

"Then we'd best get started then." Harleen smiled. "Can't wait to meet him."

"Dr. Quinzel," Leland smiled. "I can tell we're going to get along fine."

* * *

 **Psychological Profile:**

 **Name:** Dr. Jervis Tetch

 **Alias:** The Mad Hatter

Origin: A former neuroscientist and skilled entrepeneur at Wayne Enterprises' biggest division, WayneTech, Dr. Tetch's research is composed of hardware that can control the brain and induce hypnotic states. However, most of his research was, in his own description, stolen by a rival. He was then framed for the theft of prototype hardware and fired from WayneTech, further adding to his eventual descent into madness.

 **Crime History:** The crimes commited by Tetch are strange, to say the least. His expertise in mind control allows him to place his victims in a hypnotic state and recreate them into the signature characters of his favourite book. However, none have taken Jervis' insanity to the extreme than Alice herself. In his pursuit of young women with blonde hair and blue eyes, in order to recreate the perfect 'Alice' that he longs for, Jervis is responsible for the abduction and murder of young girls, most of whom he unwittingly murders in one of his schziophrenic episodes. He is always on the lookout for a potential Alice in order to finally recreate his fantasy of living in his favourite storybook.

 **Personality:** The Mad Hatter is a delusional human being. Suffering from extreme paranoid schizophrenia stemming from a major-scale mental breakdown, he displays a very unstable, borderline personality which makes him prone to violence, mood swings and over-active emotional reactions and breakdowns. Tetch believes that he is the true-to-life incarnation of the Alice in Wonderland character, the Mad Hatter. He carries himself in a very frail, weak and absent-minded manner but he is in fact more dangerous than expected. The Hatter has difficulty reserving himself in speech and has a childlike personality with little forethought or common sense. His lack of mental resolve results in poor sentence structure that usually devolve into nonsentical gibberish and mad mutterings. Despite his insanity, however, the Mad Hatter is still smart enough to constantly manufacture his mind control serum, the main cause for his successful abductions and easy mind control of his victims.

 **Doctor Notes:**

Tetch's skill in hypnotherapy makes him a dangerous patient and guards are needed at all times to make sure he is restrained. Ever since he was detained and admitted by Batman he has been on-edge and uneasy to talk to. He believes that he has been 'robbed of his Alice' by Batman and will not speak until he is ensured that his Alice is completely safe and unharmed by Batman. The 'Alice' that Tetch speaks of is yet another young girl in his long line of abductees. She was found by the GCPD in a lucid and unconscious state, dressed in a fancy-dress costume resembling that of Alice. She is now being treated by doctors at Gotham General Hospital for both post-traumatic stress disorder and night terrors from her horrifying experience.

The medication that I have prescribed for him, however, makes him extremely lucid and easy to speak to, thus his on edge demeanor has been calmed and allows for a safer session with the patient. I hope that I can get through to him and allow him to see what is wrong with his actions and that he is in fact renowned scientist Jervis Tetch and not the Mad Hatter he longs to be.

Tetch is completely unmanageable when forced to bare his head, so he does not constrict to the usual rules of patient uniform. He is also unwilling to co-operate without the sessions being in the form of a tea party.


	3. The Clown Prince of Gotham City

The next few weeks were some of the most interesting that Harleen had ever experienced in her life. She had thought that Arkham Asylum was one of the most interesting and most history-rich places that the world had to offer, but Harleen had never imagined that it would be as it was. The Arkham Mansion where Dr. Jeremiah lived and worked was full of equipment used by the patients prior to their incarceration and admittance to the asylum. Some of Harleen's favourites were the knives belonging to a certain Victor Zsasz, the cryogenic rifle belonging to Victor Fries and boxes of a strange orange substance belonging to the once-renowned Dr. Jonathan Crane.

In her first few days she had met the staff that she would be working with in the foreseeable future. Among them were experienced psychiatrists Dr. Penelope Young and Dr. Hugo Strange. Dr. Young was one of the newer members of the Arkham Asylum staff and was known for having a reputation as a cold, calculating woman that would do whatever she could to advance up the ranks of her profession.

Dr. Strange, on the other hand, was one of the most brilliant psychiatrists throughout the entire world. Harleen had studied a lot of his work during her course at Bludhaven University. However, many of the newspapers and tabloids that covered his escapades presented Strange as a man with an unstable ego. Harleen knew that Strange's work explored the far reaches of the human mind. However, upon talking to a lot of her new colleagues about Dr. Strange, they revealed to her that Strange's methods were quite unethical and that he treated the patients in his care with a cold and callous attitude.

Among the other members of the Asylum medical staff there was Dr. Thomas Elliot. He was born into a wealthy family and was known by many as a good friend and confidante to multi-millionaire Bruce Wayne. He was a very talented surgeon, having been trained from the notes and handbooks of the famous Thomas Wayne, which were written and published prior to his death. How Elliot managed to get his hands on the handbooks was anyone's guess, but Harleen had an idea that it was something to do with Bruce Wayne not following in his father's footsteps. Harleen had briefly met Elliot, albeit briefly due to his low work schedule and the fact he was a quiet and collected person who did not have many friends. His parents had died at a young age and the only friend that he seemed to have left was Bruce Wayne.

A lot of Harleen's time was used up in her sessions with Dr. Leland on Jervis Tetch. Harleen had found the Mad Hatter to be a very hard patient to talk to, with his constant mutterings about wanting to find his Alice and that he did not belong within the whitewashed walls of the Asylum. He did not seem to be interested in talking to her and Leland, only shortly answering the questions he was asked before going back to absent-mindedly tapping on a china tea cup with his long fingernails. Prior to being attached to this patient Harleen had thought that it would have been a good idea, but the medication and the psychosis that afflicted Mr. Tetch seemed to stagnating Harleen's career and her trial run at the Asylum. She had made a few decent notes, however, and seemed to connect a lot of the dots made by the notes of Dr. Leland.

However, Harleen did not believe she was getting the experience she needed from working with Leland and Tetch. She felt as if her career was stagnating and that she needed a big inmate to sink her teeth into. Much to her dismay, she found that most of the big names among the staff had been taken by some of the more veteran members, with Dr. Young having Victor Zsasz and Waylon Jones and Dr. Strange having Pamela Isley and Victor Fries.

Harleen had a feeling that Jeremiah was starting to see her as a waste of time that he never should have invested in. The feeling began to gnaw away at her stomach and left her going home in disappointment and anxiety. This was her big break and Harleen felt as if she had started to buckle under the pressure that came along with it.

That was until he arrived.

It had been yet another regular day at the Asylum. Both Harleen and Dr. Leland had just finished a yet another inconclusive session with The Mad Hatter. The two girls were deflated and quite disappointed at the continuous amount of nothingness that they were getting out of their resident schizophrenic.

"We're going nowhere." Harleen sighed, pushing her glasses firmly back onto her nose while scouring her notes. "He just won't talk."

"I've never had him be like this before." Leland clicked her pen in frustration. "He's just not there at all. The only thing he mumbles about is how he has lost his Alice."

"Maybe you should lower the dosage of his meds?" Harleen suggested, flipping a page of her notes with a sigh. "Make him a little less lucid."

"Maybe you're right, but that would make him a more dangerous patient." Leland nodded slowly. "He may be dosed up that he's living in Wonderland."

Both of them chuckled at Leland's comment, before continuing to walk towards the staff room that they had left their belongings inside. Most of the Arkham staff that didn't have sessions or appointments spent their time in the staff room, chatting and comparing notes on their respective cases. Harleen had learned a lot about the patients at the Asylum through this method and had chimed in with a lot of theories as to solve some of her colleagues' problems. However, nothing ever seemed to happen near the staff room. There were no arguments, no prisoner riots, nothing.

That was until today.

As they walked down the corridor, both Harleen and Leland saw a large group forming towards the end corridor near the lobby. Walking at a quickened pace, the two arrived to find many of the doctors stood cowering while also quite interested.

"What's going on?" Harleen asked, inquisitively.

"...He's back." One of the nurses replied with a deep breath.

"Who?" Harleen's eyebrows raised before she turned to Leland, who seemed to have shrunk in size and pushed her tail between her legs. "Joan?"

"You don't want to know." Leland gulped. "He's big trouble."

Before Harleen could ask anyone more questions, she was cut of by a bone chilling cackle. It was if someone had copied a slow clap of applause and morphed it into their actual laugh, but every drawn-out 'HA' made the hairs on your neck stand on end like soldiers standing in attention. Harleen took a deep breath and pushed to the front of the crowd, where around six Arkham security guards had their guns trained on a particular individual. He was tied up in a straightjacket but still wore the outfit that he had been brought into the Asylum with. His legs and feet were covered with black suit pants and worn leather loafers, both of which were covered in dust and grime.

His features, however, were the more horrifying thing. His skin was stark white and looked like the exact colour of milk. His hair was neon green and was gelled back to keep out of his eyes and his lips were the colour of a bright red lipstick. However, none of the lipstick that must have been on his lips had been smudged like the dirt that was all over his face and his clothing. As he was dragged past the crowd, he turned his head and smiled. His teeth were covered in metal, some of which looked like dentures while the others looked like protective overlays. His face was tattooed with a small 'J' underneath his left eye and his face was slim and gaunt, with cheekbones so sharp you could cut yourself upon them.

He looked at the gathered crowd and cackled once more, before widened his eyes and forcefully moving towards them. He scanned each and every one of them, smiling as he seemingly remembered who they all were. That was until he reached Harleen. His smile died and his eyes lit up with curiosity. He stared at Harleen's ID Card and smiled once more, before looking directly into Harleen's eyes. Despite his far distance, she felt unnerved and as if he was staring directly into her soul.

"You..." The man said. "You're new here..."

He chuckled under his breath.

"I like you already." He giggled. "You look like a whole lotta fun."

Before he could say any more, a rifle butt collided with the back of his head. Snapping around, the man snarled like a rabid animal and stared at the guard who did it with deathly cold eyes. If he had not been wearing a straightjacket, Harleen was certain that the man would have lunged for the guard. The guard did not flinch, however, and simply trained the barrel of his rifle at the spot between the man's eyes, causing him to burst into a fit of uncontrollable cackling once more.

"Lighten up, soldier!" The man cackled. "You know what they say...all work and no play.."

"Be quiet, clown." Another guard said, coming from the back of the group of security guards. He did not wear a helmet, and instead showed his face directly to the new inmate. Harleen recognized the guard immediately as Aaron Cash, the head of Arkham Security. He held a pistol in his right hand, due to an unfortunate incident with another inmate named Killer Croc. The staff had told the story to Harleen on one of her first days. The first time that Waylon Jones had been detained at Arkham, prior to his escape a few months ago, the guards did not know how to handle him. He immediately tried to break free and severed Cash's left hand like a knife through butter. Ever since the incident, Cash wore a metal hook where his hand once was and was deathly afraid of both Killer Croc and the sewers that he lives in.

"Oooh, look everybody!" The man chuckled and jumped up and down repeatedly. "It's Captain Hook!"

Harleen was shocked at the man's comment. It was obvious that he was referring to the hook on Cash's hand, but to bring up such a sore subject like child's play was venomous to say the least. However, deep down, a small part of Harleen did think that the insult was childish and quite funny. She did not dare laugh though.

"That's right." Cash growled, get right in the man's face. "I'm Captain Hook. Now, I'm gonna shove my hook up your ass if you don't shut your mouth."

"Why don't you do that then?" The man's face turned sour. "Give this audience of doctors something to diagnose."

Cash growled once more, before turning away from the man. "Get the clown out of my sight. Don't muzzle him despite how tempting it is."

As they tried to move him, the man fought back, kicking at the extra guards in a wild frenzy. He began to cackle uncontrollably, causing a few guards to walk over and stand beside the crowd of doctors, getting ready to ask them to move just in case things got out of hand. It took three more guards to haul him off to wherever they wanted him to go, but not before he turned back to Harleen and smiled with his metal teeth.

"I'll be seeing you very soon, pretty bird!" He cooed as he was dragged away. "I'm sure we're gonna have a whole lotta fun together!"

As he finally disappeared out of sight, all of the doctors seemed to relax. With a sigh of relief, they all began to disperse to the places they needed and wanted to be. Harleen, however, seemed to be shaken still from her experience. Looking at Leland, she shivered uncontrollably and sighed heavily.

"Who was that?" Harleen asked.

"That, Harleen," Dr. Leland sighed. "Was the Joker."

Harleen's eyes widened. She had read numerous newspaper articles, web reports and even dossiers on the phantom 'Clown Prince of Crime' known only as The Joker. He had appeared on the Gotham crime scene a few years prior and built up a vast network of loyal thugs and mobsters of his own right. Nobody knew exactly where his base of operations was, but it was rumoured to be right under the police's noses. The Joker was known for being more vicious, ruthless and demented than both Sal Maroni and Carmine Falcone combined. He had the stones to do what they would never dream of doing to their enemies. He was one of the only major gang leaders in the city that could truly be called a 'supervillain' ripped straight out of a two dollar comic book.

That was the Joker.

The Clown Prince of Gotham had spoken to _her_.

The Joker had targeted her.

Dr. Leland immediately noticed Harleen's distress and brought her in for a hug. Within a few seconds she released her and looked her in the eyes.

"Don't let him get inside your head." She smiled. "You are new blood that he has never seen before. He does this to everybody. You're perfectly safe as long as you don't go seeking interaction with him. He won't even recognize you exist in a few hours."

"I hope you're right." Harleen smiled. "For my own sake."

Harleen swallowed and smiled at Leland, before the two of them returned to the staff room in order to continue on with their usual day.


	4. A Joke Of A Patient

**Yet another chapter for you guys and gals! I'm about halfway through the chapters that I've written so far in this story, but not to worry for I am already writing more! I enjoy this story as much as you guys do, especially the characters within it. I hope you all are anxious for my interpretation of the Joker, because I'm anxious to see whether not you guys enjoy him. He's certainly a complex character and I hope that I do him justice in all of your eyes.**

 **I'd also like to thank the numerous people that have started to follow and favourite this story, as well as MermaidBodz for their review. It's all greatly appreciated.**

 **Now, on with the show!**

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It wasn't until a day later that Harleen would finally know whether or not The Joker was interested in her or not. She had let it gnaw away at her like she did most things that frightened her. She had tossed and turned about it, dreamt about it and woke up in a cold sweat about it. The entire situation reminded her of bad memories that she wanted to keep a closed door on, the days when she was a ditzy blonde with an incredibly thick Brooklyn accent that wanted all of the boys to notice her for her antics. Those were the days when she didn't care, the days when she was happy-go-lucky and didn't understand that the world wasn't hers to own.

Harleen had closed the door on that life and she was determined to make sure it stayed under a tight lock and key for the rest of her days.

When she arrived at the Asylum she was in for what would be yet another frustrating day with the Mad Hatter, with barely any progress made and many notes made upon the psyche of the man that sat before both her and Leland. They spent a good few hours dissecting the case before they went for their lunch. Rumours were quickly spreading among the inmates about The Joker's arrival in the Asylum, but there were also more among the inmates and staff alike that he had chosen Harleen to be his new plaything for the forseeable future.

"It's just chatter." Leland had told her. "Ignore it."

But Harleen couldn't just do that. The way that people had started to look at her inside the staff room, as inmates turned their heads as she walked past their containment cells. It had started to send a shiver up her spine.

However, Harleen was surprised when she was brought to Dr. Arkham's office as soon as she got changed out of her work gear and into her civilian clothes. One of the security guards had come to look for her, asking for her to leave her bags in the staff room for the time being. Doing as she was asked, Harleen followed the security guard for what seemed like an age, before they stopped at their destination.

Heading into Arkham Mansion and going up one of the large staircases that led to the same room where she had been brought for Jeremiah to conduct her interview, Harleen was nervous. Her hand had started to shake with anxiety, but she was determined to make sure the guard or Dr. Arkham would not see it. Walking down the corridor at the top of the staircase, Harleen was surprised to find Dr. Leland standing outside the office of their boss with the same confused look on her face that Harleen had on her face a few minutes prior.

Seeing her, Leland smiled before knocking gently on Jeremiah's office door. They had both been asked to visit for some specific reason, yet neither could figure out exactly what was going on and why they were there. They did not have to wait too long to find out, however, as the door swiftly opened and revealed the lean figure of Jeremiah. He smiled and moved out of the way of the doorframe, before moving to his desk and taking a seat as they both did the same.

"Thank you both for coming, I appreciate it." Jeremiah smiled. "I'm sure you both have urgent matters to attend to and are eager to go home, but I believe that this important not only for this institute's future but also your future, Harleen."

Taken aback, Harleen's eyes widened as she tried to figure out what exactly was going on. Had she done something wrong? Was this the moment she would be let go and be forced to find another job? Her nerves had started to get the better of her.

"As both of you are probably now aware, as are most of the staff here, the Joker was recently arrested and placed in Blackgate. As is the usual procedure, he has now been transferred over here due to his insane state of mind." Jeremiah spoke with a low tone and heavy, breath-filled words. "This was an...unforseen turn of events."

"What do you mean by 'unforseen'?" Leland spoke up, a tone of concern fiercely evident in her voice.

"You of all people should know, Joan. The Joker has a certain taste in psychiatrists." Jeremiah replied. "And the last time we placed a doctor that he didn't like on his case, the press were given more than enough information to talk about."

"What are you suggesting, Jeremiah?" Leland's tone was turning more and more dark as she searched for the answer to his questions.

"It's not a suggestion, Joan. It's more of a fact." Jeremiah sighed. "The Joker has asked for Harleen to be his new psychiatrist."

Harleen nearly choked on her own saliva when she heard it. There was no way that a high-profile criminal like The Joker had decided to name a no-name as his new psychiatrist. She was sure that she had obviously misheard Jeremiah.

"Are you sure?" Harleen spluttered. "You're certain he was taking about me?"

"Harleen, I wouldn't have said anything if I was not one-hundred percent certain." Jeremiah clasped his hands together. "Even though he does not know who you are, The Joker has certainly found out about you, the newest member of staff."

"Jeremiah, you cannot be seriously thinking about agreeing to this." Leland growled. "Harleen is young and inexperienced. With no disrespect at all to her, I am seriously concerned that The Joker will chew her up and spit her out like nothing."

"I have been left with no other choice, Joan." Jeremiah sighed. "The Joker has asked for Harleen to be his therapist and I have to agree to what the patient desires. If I potentially change his psychiatrist to someone else then they could possibly end up in a body bag like the last one."

"Bodybag?" Harleen's eyes widened.

"The Joker is a dangerous criminal." Jeremiah held his head in his hands. "Sometimes not even the security staff at the Asylum can stop him when he flies into a rage. I hope you now realize why exactly we keep a lot of things out of the published reports."

"I don't think this is a good idea." Dr. Leland groaned. "This should be handled by a more trained and, quite frankly, more expendable member of staff."

Harleen was struggling to take this all in. Here she was, presented with what could be the defining case in her career. This was The Joker, known serial killer and vicious gang leader with an extreme case of insanity. No psychiatrist was ever able to successfully diagnose or get him to open up. Those that got too close to him were known to end up dead or missing, especially the doctors who tried to get in his way. There was tremendous pride and fame awaiting her, but there would be danger and extreme peril to plague her on the way.

"I want to do it." Harleen sighed, sitting up straight. "If he wants me, then I'll make sure to do my best to help him."

A smile crept onto the face of Jeremiah Arkham. It was the kind of smile that a small child would make when he got exactly what he wanted for his birthday, and this was no doubt what Jeremiah wanted. Looking at Harleen, his eyes widened and he grinned, before turning to Dr. Leland.

"Thank you, Joan." He smiled. "You may leave."

"But Jeremiah..." Leland sighed.

With a stern look as a reply, Dr. Leland nodded and rose from her chair. Within moments of ending his conversation, Jeremiah turned to Harleen and waited patiently for Dr. Leland to get up and leave the office. Once she had done so, Jeremiah clasped his hands together.

"You're taking a huge risk with this." Jeremiah's head sunk. "The Joker will be unlike anyone you have ever met in your entire life. He is sporadic and the downright representation of insanity. Compared to The Joker, the Mad Hatter will seem like child's play to you."

"But why did you agree to this, if I may ask?" Harleen folded her arms. "I've worked here for around a month, I have had a single patient and you have said yourself that I have no practical experience. I appreciate this opportunity, of course, but forgive me but I don't understand it."

"It's perfectly fine to be confused, Harleen." Jeremiah sat back in his chair. "But I have said to you before that I believe that you could be one of the very best of us here. Jervis Tetch was not a true test of your abilities, you and I both know that. But I feel that the notes you made on the subject will be extremely helpful to the next doctor to take on his case. You deserve a challenge that you can sink your teeth into and I fully believe that The Joker will be just that, however dangerous the situation will be."

Before Harleen was given a chance to reply, Jeremiah continued abruptly.

"I also want to make sure that you know that you will be perfectly safe while conducting your sessions with him." He clasped his hands together once more. "I will have multiple guards set outside the door and a panic button installed inside your office. In addition to that, the Joker will be restricted into a straightjacket at all times in order to maintain a safe level of physical interaction."

Harleen nodded. This was what she would have expected from a dangerous criminal such as The Joker. The level of security and safety prep that would need to go into a regular hour session with the patient would be higher than the roof, but it would need to be done so that The Joker would not be able to harm the doctor or be able to successfully escape the room, allowing him to freely participate in a rampage or start an institute-wide riot.

"He is that dangerous?" Harleen asked.

"I'm sure you're read the reports." Jeremiah nodded. "I don't need to go into detail, but he is truly a vicious specimen."

Harleen sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. Noticing this, Jeremiah leaned forwards and placed both his elbows on the desk, folding his arms to be able to do so in a comfortable fashion.

"The Joker is a special case, Harleen, I don't need to tell you that." Jeremiah smiled. "If you find a way to get inside his head, to get him talking, maybe even start to break his psyche apart, it could be the start of a major breakthrough with him. Many different institutes have tried to create their own theories on The Joker but none have succeeded. He is an enigma, shrouded in a web of mystery that only he can walk through unscathed. It's all very mysterious and quite exciting, if you ask me."

"I will do my best, Dr. Arkham." Harleen smiled.

"I'm sure you will, don't worry about that." Jeremiah stood up from his chair and began to walk towards one of the exhibits of equipment he had. "But you must remember that you are the newest fish in the pond. The Joker will want to break you as he has tried to do with all of us. The psychiatrist profession is a game to him. Be very careful."

With a sigh, Harleen stood up and walked towards the door. "Goodnight, Jeremiah."

"Goodnight, Harleen." Jeremiah spoke, his back turned to her. "Get some rest. I'll email some files on The Joker later tonight."

"Thank you, sir." Harleen opened the office door and took a step out.

"Harleen?" Jeremiah called from the office. Sticking her head back in with a raised eyebrow, Harleen waited for his response.

Turning around slowly, Jeremiah folded his arms. "Don't fret on this whole Joker situation. If you ever feel that you cannot continue as his therapist, I will have you removed from the case and place another doctor onto it."

With a nod, Harleen left the office and closed the door behind her. She immediately leant on the wall beside her and took multiple deep breaths, trying to process exactly what was going on.

The Joker had asked for her.

He wanted her to be his psychiatrist.

He wanted Harleen Quinzel.


	5. The Meeting Of The Minds

**Thank you to the numerous people who have followed and favourited, as well as the three new reviewers! Your comments make me eager to write more of this story and I'm glad that everyone is enjoying it.**

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The preparation for her first session with The Joker seemed to have consume Harleen on the days leading up to it. She had prepared so many questions, watched all of the interview tapes and read all of the reports and theories made by various different doctors from institutes all over the country on what exactly was wrong with someone like The Joker. The theories were intense, with many doctors having broken down how similar Joker's antics were with someone with bipolar disorder, schizophrenia and many more mental illnesses under the sun.

As much as she enjoyed reading them, however, Harleen did not believe any of them.

She wanted to make her own analysis on the Joker. A fresh start with no idea of what other doctors had to say on the matter. As as Harleen was concerned, The Joker was her patient and he would stay that way for the very foreseeable future. She did not need any help from other people to take care of her patient. She had decided on questions, she had prepared ink blots and had basically done more research and investigation into the Joker's crimes than was necessary.

From what Harleen had read about the Clown Prince and his exploits, she was shocked to find so little about him. The fact that he had turned up three years prior with no reasonable explanation and formed his own gang by infiltrating the ranks of influential mob boss Roman Sionis, better known by his street name of Black Mask, was crazy to think of on its own. He owned many properties around the city but no one could ever pinpoint where exactly his main headquarters was. He was a shadowy and mysterious character that nobody on the police force had ever been able to apprehend.

Until the Batman got involved.

Joker had been imprisoned once before he was placed under Harleen's supervision, having been apprehended by the Batman after he unsuccessfully tried to kidnap the Gotham City Police Commissioner, James Gordon. He had been thrown into Blackgate Penitentiary and left to rot by the Batman, by his insane psyche had forced the medical staff at the prison to deem him too insane for trial and had him thrown down into the depths of Arkham Asylum, where he was preyed upon by Dr. Hugo Strange. The famous psychiatrist could not even got through to him, causing Strange to deem him a lost cause and pawn him off to another psychiatrist.

That psychiatrist wound up dead in an alleyway, stabbed to death with a Joker from a poker deck sticking out of his neck.

Harleen knew that her new patient was not someone to mess with, especially when he made the decision that he did not like you, but she was sure that she would be able to handle whatever the Clown Prince of Gotham would throw at her.

By the time she had arrived at the Asylum on the day of her first session, Harleen was ecstatic about it. She couldn't wait to see what exactly was going to happen in her session with him, what he was going to do and what the answers to her questions were going to be. She quickly got changed into her lab coat and left her bag in the staff room, before beginning the trek over to her office.

Waiting inside for her session to begin, Harleen looked over her notes and questions for her patient one last time, before tracing her hand over the panic button below her desk in order to familiarize herself with where it was in case anything got out of hand. As she was doing this, however, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in." Harleen called, sitting up straight in her chair.

Within seconds, the door opened and Aaron Cash, the guard she had seen when the Joker was being brought in for admittance, walked in with a scowl on his face.

"So, you're Dr. Quinzel." Cash grunted, walking towards the desk before extending his right hand for her to shake. "Aaron Cash. Head of Arkham Security."

"Yes, I've heard of you." Harleen shook his hand and smiled. "Excellent work with the Joker last week. The fact that he did not scare you at all amazes me."

"Darling, when you've worked in this job as long as me." Cash chuckled. "Not many things scare you after a while. You become numb to the craziness."

"I guess." Harleen nodded, still smiling. "Obviously I'm still raw to it all."

"Well, with a patient like Joker, I'm not surprised." Cash folded his arms. "You're in for the ride of your life, kiddo. I don't envy you."

"Anyway, Mr. Cash," Harleen sat up straight at her desk. "What brings you to my office?"

"The Joker." Cash replied, solemnly. "Since he's one of our more dangerous criminals, I have to be on-hand at all times in case he turns feral."

"You mean you'll be standing outside during the session?" Harleen asked.

"Precisely." Cash nodded. "They're bringing him down now. I suggest you prepare yourself."

Harleen nodded. This was it, the moment she had been waiting for.

Both her and Cash spoke for a good quarter of an hour, before the sound of loud footsteps and rattling chains sprung them into action.

"Good luck, Harleen." Cash smiled. "You're gonna need it."

Without further ado, Cash walked towards the door and left Harleen at her desk. Immediately, he pulled out his pistol and aimed it down the corridor.

"Don't try anything, clown." Cash growled. "You killed two good men last time."

The Joker did not reply. Instead, he looked at Cash and growled, a vicious noise stemming from the deepest part of his vocal chords. Taking that as his answer, Cash stepped aside and pushed Joker into the office. With two more guards escorting him, The Joker casually walked into the office and looked around. His head was sullen and aimed down at the floor, acting as if someone had just told him a lot of bad news.

As he walked in, Harleen could finally get a good look at him. He was not at all a muscular or bulky character. Instead, he was quite skinny but was well-built around the shoulder area. Harleen could tell that he could definitely overpower her should he ever want to during their time together. His skin was chalk white, his hair neon green and his lips still blood red. Now that she could see them properly, Harleen could tell that it was actually the natural colour of his lips. It also looked as if all of the hair normally on an adult male's face had disappeared from his. His face was without eyebrows or a beard and looked as if he could not grow either naturally, like a prepubescent child could not grow a beard. Instead, his features were outlined by his distinctive cheekbones, which seemed to position his face into a tilted view of normality.

Despite his crazed look, Harleen could not help but feel that there was something quite attractive, quite beautiful, about her new patient.

Dressed in a dirty cream straightjacket, blue sweatpants with 'ARKHAM' printed down the left leg in block white lettering and absolutely no shoes whatsoever, The Joker calmly sat down in the chair opposite Harleen's desk and looked around. The guards then slowly backed out of the room and closed the door behind them, making sure that their eyes never left him until they were supposed to.

With a quick cough, Harleen shuffled in her seat and set the tape recorder going in order to make sure everything was documented.

"Taped patient interview number one. Date is March 3rd, 2015. Subject has no recorded name, alias listed as The Joker." Harleen interlocked her hands together gently. "In the room is the patient and myself, Dr. Quinzel."

Looking up, Harleen found that the Joker was still completely still and silent. His eyes surveyed the room solemnly, as if all the happiness in the world had been sucked out of him. He then tried to test the straitjacket he was tied into and found it perfectly sealed, much to his dismay.

"So, you're the famous Joker. The Clown Prince of Gotham, as they call you" Harleen smiled. "My name's Harleen. I'm your new doctor."

Silence. He did not speak a word. The Joker simply looked up and stared directly into her eyes. Only now could she see him for his true face. The green eyes, the faded black bags underneath them and the curved lettering that spelt 'Damaged' on the very top of his head, at his crownline. All of it represented the man for what he was: Abnormal.

"So, is there anything you'd like to start off with?" Harleen was becoming increasingly nervous. Her brow had begun to sweat and she could tell that her voice was beginning to slightly falter as she started at him.

After a few moments, Joker tilted his head a little to the right and burst his lips into a smile, the metal grills evident in his front teeth. "So, you're the new doctor."

"Yes, I am." Harleen nodded. "I started a few weeks ago."

"I can tell." Joker continued to smile between his sentences. "You're not like the others."

"What does that mean?" Harleen raised an eyebrow.

"You're not boring." Joker chuckled. "I'm sure you can have a lot of fun when you want to. You know how to live."

"And how do you feel people should live?" Harleen asked, improvising a question.

"In the moment." Joker sighed. "Without a care in the world."

"And that's how you live your life? Without a care for anyone else?"

Then, he stopped talking once more. It was as if he had grown bored of the topic that they were talking about and had simply decided to stop talking. After a few moments, Joker just burst into his slow cackle. Leaning his head back on the back of the chair, he rolled his eyes in the back of his head and let out a high-pitched squeal, before returning his gaze to his psychiatrist.

"Harleeeen." Joker began to call out her name. He ran his tongue across his teeth and around his mouth, before tapping the tip of it on one of his molars. "Harleen. Quinzel."

"Yes, that's my name." Harleen nodded in response, but it was obvious that The Joker was no longer interested in talking to her.

"Hmmmm." The Joker continually mused on the name. "Tell me something, do your friends call you Harley?"

He immediately smiled at her creepily, squinting at her and tilting his head to the side.

"What does my name have to do with this session, Mr. Joker?" Harleen asked, quite sternly. "With all due respect, we're here to talk about you."

"I think your name is quite funny. Hilarious, even." The Joker's expression turned quite sour at the flip of a switch. "It sounds like Harlequin. Harleen. Quinzel. Harley. Quinn."

"Haven't heard that one before..." Harleen muttered under her breath.

"Hm?" The Joker tilted his head once more.

"Nothing, Mr. Joker."

"So tell me," Joker immediately turned the tables once more. "Do your friends call you Harley?"

"Not really." Harleen sighed. "I don't really like that name."

"Why?" Joker would have raised his eyebrow, if his eyebrows were visible. "I, for one, feel that Harley is quite a pretty name."

"I have a...bad experience, with that name." Harleen mused. "So, despite how pretty you may think it is, I don't like it."

The Joker bit his bottom lip and nodded a little, before continuing to look around as he was a few minutes prior.

"Can I call you Harley?" Joker immediately quipped, shocking Harleen out of their silence.

"I'd prefer you call me Dr. Quinzel." Harleen folded her arms.

"But that's such a formal name. I can't speak like that." Joker was obviously struggling with the straightjacket that he was held in.

"Why? What's wrong with formality?" Harleen snapped back, seeing a chance to write down some good notes.

"It makes me think of authority." Joker growled. "I despise authority."

Harleen had just hit the jackpot. And it was recorded. This could have been it, the chance for her to start making some real progress from the first session with her new patient. She adjusted herself in her chair and stared at him.

"What do you hate about authority, Mr. Joker?" Harleen asked. "What about it makes you hate it so much?"

The Joker did not reply. Instead, he slowly began to chuckle until it turned into his full-blown cackle that Harleen had expected of him.

"Because I despise people asking me questions." Joker's expression turned dark, almost murderously vicious. "Especially when I know they're trying to get to the bottom of what they believe is wrong with me."

"And what is wrong with you?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"And you believe that?"

"One hundred percent."

Before she could continue, there was a knock at the door. Cash then walked through and stood at the door, allowing the two other guards to walk in.

"Sorry, Doc." Cash smiled. "Time's up for today."

Joker immediately turned his head back from Cash to Harleen. "Well, this has been fun, hasn't it?"

"Indeed." Harleen smiled. "I can't wait for next week. I feel we did some good work today. Made a lot of progress."

As the guards lifted Joker from the chair, he turned to one of them and snarled. He then turned his head back to Harleen and smiled a full grin.

"Oh so do I, dear Harley." Joker nodded. "We definitely made progress. Crucial progress."


	6. Patient and Psychiatrist

The days of the week following Harleen's session with The Joker, it was the only thing that a lot of the staff would talk to her about. Jeremiah had put it down on a great success on her part and commended her for being able to make the Joker talk. Harleen, however, did not feel the same way about it. In her eyes, the Joker had barely talked at all. She had got him to answer a few questions, but his determination to be stubborn seemed to have gotten the better of her. Harleen wished that she had asked him more questions, more hard-hitting stuff to really get him talking. She wanted to do better, she needed to do better if she wanted to live up to her own expectations.

She had been waiting for her next session anxiously since the first session, making up more hard-hitting questions and adding more to the build-up of her theory about her new patient. So far she had not been able to determine anything about him. He seemed erratic in his movement in the straightjacket and uninterested at a lot of the questions, perhaps showing a form of ADHD that a lot of the doctors had not been able to diagnose, or they had simply been looking too far into his condition.

Harleen wanted to know more about her patient, more about what made him who he was. She wanted to know, from his words, where he had come from and what had turned him into the psychotic menace to society he was. What had inspired the look and his own appearance? Was it natural or did he make it himself?

All of these questions wracked at Harleen's brain. She wanted to know more and more, she wanted to jump down the rabbit hole and immerse herself in her patient. He was so interesting, so full of intrigue and mystery. It was a psychologist's field day.

When the next session rolled around, Harleen was fully prepared for it. Her notepad was ready on her desk with a ballpoint pen at standby, her dossier on her patient including the notes made by past psychologists was close at-hand and she had a cup of coffee ready in case she ever needed it. She was sat ready for him, determined to tunnel her way into his brain and get him to talk about his life.

Walking in, the Joker once again seemed uninterested. Escorted by his detail of security guards, all of them ready to whip out their guns and shoot him dead at a moment's notice if he tried something, he wandered aimlessly into the office and began to look around. He did not walk straight to his seat and began to look around Harleen's office, which she had added to in order to make it her own. He began to intently look at the framed pictures she had placed on the walls, the certificates and diplomas she had earned over her education and the memorabilia that she kept close to her heart.

Cash watched him with curiosity, making sure he did not want to try anything. When he was certain everything would be fine, he looked at Harleen, who simply smiled and nodded for him to leave. She did not want to make any noise to disturb him, especially when he was known to be volatile. Harleen instead waited for Cash to shut her office door and folded her arms.

"Good morning, Mr. Joker." Harleen spoke up, chirping the words in as happy a voice as she could make it. "Would you care to take a seat and join me?"

As normal, Joker ignored her. He continued to look at the pictures on the walls, occasionally bending down to read the titles of the books on her shelves, before he eventually turned his body and head towards her.

"You have had a fascinating life." Joker smiled, his metal teeth glistening in the sunlight coming through the window. "Can you talk about it?"

"Erm, no disrespect, Mr. Joker." Harleen tried to not sound nervous. "But I'd rather talk about you and your life."

"Really?" Joker looked surprised. "To be honest my life isn't that interesting."

"How do you know?" Harleen continued to look at him intently. "As far as I know you've never indulged your personal life to any of your doctors."

"Because I never trusted any of them." Joker turned his back and went back to the pictures. "I never felt as if they would properly guard my secrets."

"Were you scared they'd use them against you?" Harleen asked, digging deep. "Make a profit on your own story?"

"Come here." Joker immediately snapped back. "Tell me about this picture."

Slowly, Harleen nodded and rose from her chair. She would have preferred to have done her talking at her desk, but if this was what would help her patient to confide in her then it was a risk she was willing to take. Joining him at the wall, Harleen smiled when she saw the picture he was staring at.

It was a photo taken of her when she was in middle school, holding a fake plastic gold medal that was dangling around her neck whilst dressed in a gymnast's leotard. The colours of the leotard were a strange one to her, even to this day. She thought it had something to do with the school's colours being a combination of red and black, but she still thought that the idea of having a student in the year 2000 wear a leotard composed of nothing but black and red diamonds next to each other was a very absurd one.

"I used to be a gymnast when I was growing up." Harleen sighed as she remembered, before she chuckled a little. "My parents thought I was quite good."

"Did you think you were good?" Joker turned to her and titled his head. Up close he seemed a lot more normal than people realized. His features were human and quite normal, despite how nerve-racking he looked from a distance.

"Not as good as my parents thought I was, put it that way." Harleen smiled.

"I understand that one," Joker laughed in his own slow way. "Parental expectations can ruin the dreams of a child."

That last sentence hit Harleen like a ton of bricks. Was this it? Was this her chance to finally dig deep into his psyche and progress his rehabilitation to a whole different level. Harleen could not figure out exactly why so many psychologists had a hard time getting The Joker to talk. He seemed to be so open towards Harleen, so able to give her information.

"You struggled with that, I take it?" Harleen raised her eyebrow. "The expectations that your parents set for you?"

The Joker just smiled at her, before walking away and sitting down in the chair that he was supposd to sit down in to start the session. Irked by his countless attempts to bait her, Harleen did the same and sat down in her chair, before setting the recording going and stating the facts for the record as she had done the week prior.

"Now, Mr. Joker," Harleen smiled. "Today I'd like to start off with some word association, just for me to get a grip on where you stand on certain things."

"Shouldn't my stance on life already be clear to you?" Joker scowled.

"I would just like to form my own opinion on the subject." Harleen clasped her hands together. "Just speak the first thing that pops into your head."

"I don't think so." Joker cackled. "We'd have to make the tap R-rated."

"Mr. Joker," Harleen sighed. "Please try and be serious. This is for your own benefit."

"Okay, Harley, whatever you say." Joker grinned, speaking with a sarcastically theatrical tone. "Shoot away."

Harleen bit her tongue inside her mouth. Was he deliberately trying to annoy her today? He had been so different in their first session, but now it seemed that The Joker was showing her his true colours.

"Very well, first one." Harleen took a deep breath. "Gotham."

"Playground." Joker continued to grin.

"Clown."

"Identity."

"Law."

"Complication."

Harleen smirked. "Narcotics."

"Business."

"Criminal."

Joker kicked his feet up onto her desk, slightly moving her notepad as she wrote and causing her to scribble on the last letter of her sentence. "Profession."

"Gang."

"Leader."

"Batman." Harleen tried to hide her smirk.

The Joker's eyes widened as his face darkened. Harleen simply stared at him and lingered, waiting for his answer. With a growl from under his breath, he bit his bottom lip and looked away from her gaze. "Nuisance."

"Thank you, Mr. Joker," Harleen clapped her hands together gently and started to look at her notes once again. "I think that's enough of that for today."

As Harleen looked over her notes, Joker stayed completely silent. He seemed sullen and quite disgusted with what he had heard. After a few seconds, he looked up and stared at Harleen as she wrote down a few quick notes.

"You're different." Joker scowled. "I don't understand you."

"What do you mean by that?" Harleen raised her eyebrow, putting down her pen.

"I've spent a lot of time in this asylum." Joker sighed. "The first trip was enough for me to figure out all of the staff. Everyone is the same. Old, boring, determined on their goals. They're exactly like sheep that want to be led. They follow the rules, they don't want to break out of line. They come here, do what they need to do and then go home."

"Mr. Joker," Harleen sounded quite confused. "I don't understand what you mean."

"You're different from them." Joker chattered his metal teeth together. "You try and act like one of them but you're not, I see it in your eyes clear as day. Deep inside you're a little girl who likes to play games, not sit behind a table and make notes. I don't know what drives you, but I know it's not what you say it is."

Joker started to smile once more.

"You excite me, Harley." Joker tightened his hands within his straightjacket. "You make me feel as if I can talk to you without listening ears. You're the type of girl that knows what should be kept as a secret and what shouldn't. I bet you've got a good few secrets of your own. Dark secrets, ones that you keep to yourself."

Harleen started to shuffle in her seat. It was very true what he was saying, she did have many dark secrets from her past that she would rather keep bottled up. Nobody needed to know of her mistakes in the past, the childish nature she used to think was acceptable to live in. The past should never be brought up unless it was vitally important.

"So, am I right?" The Joker titled his head. "Are you different from them?"

She did not answer. The words struggled to come out of her throat. She took a few deep breaths, before staring straight at his eyes.

"Of course I'm different." Harleen smiled. "I'm young, bright, full of ideas. I feel that I bring a sense of modern flair to the staff here."

Harleen noticed that this irritated her patient. Joker simply growled under his breath and began tapping his foot in a frenzy.

"You're lucky I'm in a straightjacket." Joker sighed. "I mean, the last doctor I had wasn't as bright as you. He regarded me as an equal...pfft. Now he's where he belongs."

"And where's that?" Harleen raised an eyebrow.

"In the gutter." Joker snapped. "Wrapped in plastic and thrown to the rats, just like the other fools who thought they could cure me."

"Don't you want to be cured?" Grabbing her pen, Harleen was anxious to write.

Joker simply smiled at her and looked up, staring at something up on the wall. When Harleen eventually made the decision to look, she found that he was staring at the clock that she had behind her. A clock that read five minutes past the end of the scheduled session.

"I do believe we've gone over, if I'm not mistaken." Joker grinned. "Sorry to have kept you talking."

"That's fine." Harleen sighed. "I'd rather spend time talking with you."

"Why's that?" Joker looked shocked.

"I want to know you." Harleen smiled. "The real you."

"I'm as real as it gets." Joker grinned. "Pure flesh, bone and ink with a few chemical changes to boot."

"Chemical?" Harleen widened her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Joker simply pursed his lips. "Spoilers, Doc. You'll have to wait for next time."

And with that, Cash entered the room to retrieve Joker. Seeing this, Harleen smiled and ended the recording for the session, allowing it to end officially. Forcing Joker to his feet by his arm, Cash seemed to enjoy manhandling the Clown.

"Well, Mr. Joker, it's been a pleasure as always." Harleen smiled. "I'll see you again next week."

"You really don't have to call me that." Joker grinned, grinding his metal teeth.

"I don't quite follow."

"Mr. Joker." Joker sighed. "It doesn't fit."

"What would you rather I called you?" Harleen asked, inquistively.

"Hm..let's see." Joker touched a couple of his front teeth with the tip of his tongue. "Well, I've always thought Mr. J had a certain ring to it."

"Very well then." Harleen smiled. "I'll call you that from now on."

Cash then tried to drag Joker away, but he used his quite formidable strength to turn himself around and face Harleen.

"Could you say it?" Joker stood there, waiting. "Call me...'Mister J'."

Harleen frowned a little in surprise. "Okay...See you next week, Mister J."

Joker cackled slowly but in a short frenzy. "I like it already! Sounds better with the accent of yours. Let's hear it again!"

"That's enough, Clown." Cash snarled. "The lady has things to do."

Joker let out of low-pitched growl of his own and turned back to Cash.

"You know, Hook," Joker snarled. "One of these days, 'the lady', won't have you here to stop these brilliant conversations of ours."

"Oh?" Cash smirked. "Why's that then?"

"Because I'll have you shanked in an alley." Joker smirked. "Or maybe shot dead buying groceries. Whatever I feel like."

Cash started to chuckle, before connecting with a firm strike to the side of Joker's face.

"Don't talk out of line to me, Clown." Cash grasped Joker by his hair. "I've got a lot of people in this detail who you've done wrong and they'd love to get their hands on you."

"Really?" Joker grinned. "Let's go see them then! I can't wait!"

Cash riled up for another strike, but Harleen intentionally made a cough noise.

"That's enough, Mr. Cash." Harleen frowned. "I believe my patient has learned his lesson. Please escort him back to his cell."

"Whatever you say, Dr. Quinzel." Cash nodded. "Come on then, you freak."

Dragging him out of the office, Cash closed the door behind him and allowed Harleen the peace and quiet she had been craving for the past twenty minutes. Lying her head down on the desk, she took in a barrage of deep breaths. She couldn't believe it, the amount of information she had received from him. However, she did not know whether or not he was baiting her or not. Was he for real? Did he truly believe he was sane?

Harleen simply lay her forehead on the wood and started to breathe heavily.

"Jesus, Harleen." She muttered. "You've really fallen down the rabbit hole now."


	7. Obsession

**What's up, you wonderful guys and gals? I present to you the newest chapter of this story of mine. This is a rather different chapter, it's something purely different than the other chapters. I wanted a chapter to focus on Harleen and the effect that this new patient has on her. This one is shorter than the rest, but I feel that it is a lot more impactful and I hope that you feel the same and that you all enjoy.**

* * *

The only thing that Harleen could think about in the following days from the session was what The Joker had said before he had left her office. She didn't know whether or not he had simply been trying to get into her head by what he had meant, but she was extremely curious and continued to go over and over it in her head, almost to the point where she began to frustrate and get irritated about the subject. It was something about what he had mentioned, something about chemicals.

She couldn't exactly remember what he had said from the top of her head, but she carefully went back and rewound the tape to the end, listening multiple times to what he had said in order to get it down and remember it word for word.

"With a few chemical changes to boot."

Harleen tried her best to understand it. The meaning was so vague that it could have meant so many different things. Could it be that whatever had gone wrong inside his brain was the result of some sort of failed experiment or chemical reaction? Was it the fact that something had changed him in a way that damaged him more than physically? Harleen's head was a mess with theories about it. She had to know, she had to be able to figure it out. This was something that could possibly be crucial to the Joker's rehabilitation, it could help her figure out whether or not he was insane or not.

It could be the crux of the problem. His problem.

Spending so much of her free time at home searching the internet for chemicals that were able to bleach human skin or dye hair follicles to a certain neon colour. She spent so many hours on the subject, reading more reports, articles and papers on the subject of bleaching skin and chemicals that harmed the natural pigmentation. Despite of her hard work and obsession, however, Harleen turned up nothing on a certain chemical.

It irked her. Was this another one of The Joker's tricks? Was he simply trying to get into her head like so many of her colleagues had warned her? She did not trust him, not as much as she had been led onto believe. He was a trickster, she was slowly beginning to realize it, a liar and was trying his best to turn her over to his side. Harleen would have none of it. Just because she was the newest member of staff did not mean she would be the easiest of the bunch for The Joker to break. It did not work like that.

He did have something about him, though. A deep hidden secret that he did not want anyone to know about. Harleen could see it plain as day, but she believed that she could see that in anyone. She had begun to feel as if the man who called himself 'The Joker' was simply just that: a man. Someone who wanted fame, riches, the adoration and attention of the masses. The Joker was an actor who wanted to hog the limelight. His personality was one of somewhat unrealistic proportions. There was no way that someone, a human being, could become so completely malevolent, so spiteful and with no regard for human life. She found it strange that he had been driven so far down by society that he took sadistic pleasure in hurting people in more ways than physical. People saw him as diabolical and maniacal, but that was exactly what he wanted them to believe.

She had begun to feel that he was not as insane as he let on to people, but Harleen knew that she could not go to Jeremiah with her theory without any credible proof behind it. He would laugh her out of his office.

She wanted to get back into another session with him. She needed to get to the bottom of this case. Harleen knew that this case could have been the one that made her career. She would forever be known as the doctor who rehabilitated the Joker. Harleen would be treated like psychiatrist royalty, more famous and renowned than Dr. Strange would ever be, despite how hard he tried to stay in the limelight. Even he had once had a try at solving the problem of the Joker, but quit the role when the going got tough.

Harleen Quinzel was the only woman that could cure the Joker, and she would make sure that she would be the one to do it.

* * *

Arriving at the Asylum for yet another day, Harleen was focused on her work with the Joker. She was anxious to go over her notes and observe him, even though it was a day where they had no session. Instead, Harleen decided that she would simply go and talk about the case with her colleagues and maybe watch the Joker during the times he had in the yard. She had really no business being in work, especially since she only had one patient, but she enjoyed the company that her colleagues brought her.

Signing in and entering the lobby, Harleen walked straight to the staff room in order to put down her handbag and put on her lab coat. Once she had done that, Harleen followed her usual routine by using the staff room kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee and check the cupboards for any biscuits. Normally there were some sort of food to accompany a cup of coffee, but it seemed that her colleagues had run them dry. With a sigh, Harleen grabbed her cup of coffee and walked towards one of the sofas.

At the same time, the staff room door opened. Harleen's head immediately turned as her old mentor walked into the room, Dr. Leland. With a smile, Harleen placed her coffee on the coffee table and folded her arms.

"Morning, Joan." Harleen beamed. "How's things?"

"Oh, morning, Harleen!" Joan smiled back, taking her coat off and walking towards her locker. "I didn't know you were coming into work today."

Despite how good the facilities were at Arkham, most of the money that Jeremiah had got went into everything that the patients needed to have a safe and secure environment. Sadly, that only left enough of the budget for the staff to have bare bones luxuries, therefore the staff room and the locker room were one in the same. Harleen didn't like it, but she knew that she wasn't there to complain about it either.

"I didn't have anything to do." Harleen sighed. "Saves sitting in watching TV, I guess."

"Hmph, I know that feeling." Joan nodded, heading towards the cupboards. "No biscuits? Jesus. Looks like Tommy been at it again."

"Dr. Elliot?" Harleen raised an eyebrow. "I barely see him."

"That's because we barely see you." Joan chuckled. "Tommy's had a lot of work to do since your patient arrived."

"How do you mean?" Harleen turned around and leant over the back of the sofa.

"Your Joker is a horrible piece of work, I've told you before." Leland pursed her lips. "Within two weeks he has become the King of the Asylum once again. He's put numerous inmates in the infirmary with broken bones, lacerations, you name it."

"Jeez." Harleen looked shocked. "I'll bring that up with him. Thanks for that."

"Anyway..." Joan smiled. "I've meaning to say this, you should probably get a hobby."

Harleen didn't answer, instead looking down into her cup.

"I'm not trying to pry, Harleen," Joan sighed. "But the worst thing you can do in this profession is get too attached to a case. Especially one like yours."

"I don't see what the problem is." Harleen groaned.

"The problem, Harleen," Joan folded her legs into an indian-style on the sofa. "Is that you might be becoming obsessed."

"Obsessed?" Harleen chuckled. "You make me sound as insane as him."

"Oh, you'll never go that far." Joan laughed. "But I guess we're all a bit insane."

"Mhm, I get that." Harleen took another sip of her drink. "So, hobbies."

"What about them?" Joan raised an eyebrow.

"I want one." Harleen smiled. "You're right. I need a break."

"Well..." Joan sighed. "I usually go to the gym. It's a good way to get stress off."

"Urgh..." Harleen groaned once more. "But then's there's membership fees and so much more of that stuff..."

"Didn't you say once that you were a gymnast?" Joan added.

"What about it?"

"Well, maybe you could take that up again?" Joan smiled. "If you enjoy it once, you might enjoy it again."

"You know, I might do that." Harleen smiled. "Thanks, Joan."

"Anytime." Standing up, Joan looked at her watch. "Oh. I've got my session with Hatter soon. I should probably get over there."

"Any luck with him so far?"

"None, really." Joan shook her head. "Your notes help, but I feel like he's a lost cause."

"Don't talk like that." Harleen frowned. "He just needs time."

"Maybe you're right." Joan walked for the door. "Anyway, bye Harleen."

"See you soon, Joan."

And with that, Harleen was alone again.

She took in what Joan had been saying to her as she sipped at her coffee. Maybe she was right, maybe she was getting a little obsessed with the Joker case. She had become too strung up in her work that she was forgetting what fun actually was.

With a smile, Harleen decided that she would look up some gyms that had gymnastics classes and maybe get into it again. She remembered how to do most of the flips and twists...mostly.

The Joker should be the least of her worries.

But deep down, he wasn't.

He was there.

And deep down, she wanted him to be.


	8. Chemical Warfare

Another week, another session. That's was Harleen's stance to her new patient was. As far as she was concerned, Joan had been right about it all. Harleen knew that she was perhaps getting a little obsessed with the case, digging too deep into things that she didn't need to. The Joker was a deranged psychopath who loved to torment other people. Harleen no longer knew whether or not he was toying with her for every session, but deep down in her gut she felt as if he was telling the truth. There was some sort of rugged belief to him, a harsh truth amidst his lies.

She had listened to what Joan had to say and agreed with her, signing up to a gym not far from her apartment with multiple exercise and gymnastics classes and equipment. Harleen hadn't done most of the stuff that she had learned when she was young for a good many years, but she was doing her best in order to train. The gymnastics was the only part of her past that she felt comfortably about, back when she wasn't the professional Harleen Quinzel who worked at Arkham Asylum. Back then she was different, rebellious, dangerous, out of her mind. She wanted to be different than she was and did her best to try and not be as academical as she ended up being. There was a different Harleen Quinzel hidden behind the thick-rimmed glasses and the ocean blue eyes, there was a Harley Quinzel that would forever be locked away.

Sitting comfortably in her office as normal, her usual set-up at the ready, Harleen sighed and looked around. She was hoping that Joker would simply walk in and sit down instead of patrolling her office like a curious hound. She wanted to ask him some hard-hitting questions, something that was quite hard in the limited time that she was given with him by Dr. Arkham. With her upcoming monthly review coming up at the end of the week, Harleen wondered whether or not she should bring up the idea of perhaps having more time to talk to the Joker. If she was doing a good job, Harleen thought that perhaps Jeremiah would understood where she was coming from.

Waiting for the Joker to walk in, Harleen was surprised when he did just that. Cash no longer seemed to want to walk him into the office, instead pushing him through the door and immediately slamming it behind him. Joker seemed to be as surprised as she was, chuckling a little as he calmly walked towards his designated chair. Harleen immediately started the tape before he said anything, before grabbing a pen and getting ready to write down more notes on her patient.

"Morning, Harley." Joker dropped into his seat and folded one leg over the other.

"Morning, Mr. J." Harleen smiled and moved some of the hair of her fringe out of the way of her glasses.

"Oh, you remembered." Joker smiled. "I'm glad. It warms my heart to know you care."

"I care about all of my patients, Mr. J." Harleen folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, resting her back on the back of the chair.

"Oh, I know." Joker smiled. "I've managed to interrogate all I can from Tetch. He's quite a lost cause, sad to say. Completely and utterly lost."

Harleen sighed. Maybe he was right. Joan seemed to be doing all she could to save The Mad Hatter, but it seemed like he was too lost in his schizophrenia. The emotional trauma that he had suffered just seemed to be too much for his brain to handle, forcing him to lock himself away inside his own psyche and allow another man to take over.

"It's sad, really." Harleen looked over her notes. "But I guess not everyone can be helped."

"Hmph." Joker scoffed and looked out of the window. "Some people don't want to be helped."

"What do you mean by that?" Harleen frowned. "You can't be implying that some people prefer to be insane. Shunned by society?"

"I am indeed, dear Harley." Joker sighed, running his tongue over the metal in his teeth. "I think that a lot of people in here prefer to have loose screws."

"Do you?" Harleen leaned forwards.

"Again with the same questions!" Joker pursed his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. "Careful, dear Harley. Dig too deep and you'll fall too far."

Harleen sighed. "Last week, you mentioned something."

Joker immediately nodded. "I did indeed. Very observant."

"Something about chemicals?" Harleen raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate."

"No." Joker snapped.

"Excuse me?" Harleen folded her arms. The stubbornness she was warned about was slowly leaking through his nice guy act.

"I said no." Joker looked down at her feet. "You don't need to know. It's not important."

"But, Mr. J," Harleen sighed. "Sometimes you need to talk about bad things. I'm sure that if you get it off your chest then it'll make you feel better about it."

Joker took a while to reply. Harleen could see that he was definitely debating something in his head, the way his mouth moved as if he was talking. Many psychiatrists said and one of the main things that she had learned in university was that speaking to yourself is a dangerous sign of a multiple personality disorder. Harleen immediately began writing down that she had noticed these signs, but did not notice that Joker had finished and was simply staring at her, waiting for some sort of attention. When she stopped writing, Harleen looked up and smiled.

"Fine." Joker bit his tongue gently. "But turn off the tape."

"I'm afraid I can't do that..."

"Then you won't hear the story." Joker smiled sarcastically. "Now, do you have ink blots?"

Harleen took a deep breath. This was it, the point where she would have to start breaking the rules in order to to help her patient. Jeremiah wouldn't agree with it, especially when he was invested in this case without actually sitting in one the sessions. This was the Joker gaining control, Harleen recognized that. She was now playing the game on his terms. She was playing his game and she was at his mercy. It was a dangerous situation to be in, but deep down it excited Harleen. She was wrestling with her emotions. Her brain told her to just say no and try a different approach, but her gut was telling to do what he said.

With another deep sigh, Harleen pressed a button and turned off the tape.

"Clever girl." Joker immediately burst into his signature cackle. "You're breaking the rules now, aren't you? Scared, little girl?"

"Not in the slightest." Harleen continued to put on her girl-next-door smile. "I'll do anything I can to help you. You deserve to be a member of society."

"Society is overrated." Joker scoffed. "I don't need society."

"Everyone needs society." Harleen folded her arms. "It's the natural order."

"Order?" Joker smiled. "You don't know anything about me, do you?"

"I've read the reports." Harleen looked around. Her nerves were slowly getting the better of her. "Master criminal, appeared with no backstory on the Gotham underworld scene three years ago, one of the main gang leaders in Gotham..."

"I'll stop you right there." Joker grinned. "Your information is outdated. I am the King of Gotham City, I am THE main gang leader. Nobody can touch me."

Harleen was shocked. She had an idea that Joker was a powerful crime lord, but the fact that he had wiped out all of the competition in the Gotham underworld was a seriously powerful thing to do.

"What about the other families?" Harleen widened her eyes.

"You're talking about Falcone, aren't you?" Joker cackled. "He's old news. I'm the boss now. Falcone wants to do a job, run some guns or fight a rival gang, he has to go through me. They all have to go through me."

wants to do a job, he has to go through me. They all have to go through me."

Harleen's eyes widened. She didn't know what to say. The fact that she had not been warned about all of this was a seriously disturbing fact. Harleen knew that The Joker was extremely nihilistic, sociopathic, homicidal, narcissistic and egotistical, but the fact that he was so violent and diabolical to the point where the Joker had wiped out all of his competition was a scary fact.

"We had a deal." Harleen folded her arms. "You mentioned that chemicals changed you into the person you are now."

"I did indeed." Joker sighed. "And it's true."

"Care to elaborate?" Harleen picked up her pen.

"I will." Joker nodded

Standing up, the Joker walked into the centre of the room and looked around. "I wasn't always like this. As much as I pride myself on my colourful and flamboyant appearance, there was a time where I was exactly like you. Normal, boring, another member of society. I don't remember much about that time, it comes back to me in flashes. From what I do remember, however, I don't enjoy."

Joker sighed and tried to move his arms out of instinct, but growled at himself under his breath when he remembered that he was restrained.

"I thought I was a big shot back then. A comedian that could make the world cry. I thought that I could start a joke that would have the whole world laughing. I mean, I even quit my job to pursue this dream...a dream that didn't work out whatsoever. The audience hated me, I screwed up more punchlines than is physically possible. The pressure got to me, I guess...to me! I was down on my luck, poorer than a beggar and scrounging for food wherever I could find it."

Harleen's eyes widened as she listened to his tale. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Nibbling on the end of her pen, Harleen noticed that the Joker had fallen silent. She blinked a few times, before looking up at him. "Please, Mr. J, take all the time you need. We've got plenty of time."

Joker did not answer, but nodded instead. He took a deep breath, and continued.

"There were...some people that watched one of my shows. They came to me at the bar afterwards and began to talk to me. I don't remember exactly what gibberish they were going on and on and on about, but I remember that they offered me a job. All I had to do was go with them to one of the chemical plants in Gotham Industrial and cover for them while they robbed it. They said I'd get a hefty chunk of the loot for my problems. Of course, I said yes because in my mind any sucker would do such a thing."

Tapping his foot, The Joker bit his lip.

"They had me wear this stupid red helmet that I could barely see through. Something about hiding my identity in case we were discovered. I believe them like the idiot I was. I was expecting a smooth sail, an easy grab and an easy getaway. What I didn't expect was that the police were waiting for us. Somebody had obviously tipped them off as to what my new accomplices were planning to do. We ditched the plan once we came under fire and tried to escape through the back entrance, which was located over a couple of walkways over a couple of vats. We split up and tried to go our separate ways in order to lose the cops. They got away fine, but me, I was dressed up as the damn gang leader! They'd stitched me up!"

Harleen was shocked at what she was hearing, but kept a brave face for him to see.

"I was cornered on one of the walkways by him..."

"By who?"

"The Batman." Joker spat the words out like venom. "He spoke about something...how about he had been waiting a long time to bring me in. Obviously he had no idea that I was a decoy. I warned him, I told him that he should stay away. I tried to explain that I had done nothing wrong but he just kept walking towards me. That hulking black figure that he was, the terrifying shadow that cast around the room."

Joker took another deep breath.

"The helmet I was wearing came with a cape. My damn downfall. As I tried to back away from him, I stood on the end of the cape. The weight of the helmet overpowered me and sent me tumbling down from the walkway and down into one of the vats. And the damn Batman didn't even try to help me. He just stood there and watched as I fell to my doom, his white eyes glistening in the green light of the vats. He was the one thing I remember as I fell, the one thing before I felt the pain. I fell into the vat and was consumed by the chemicals within it. I don't remember what happened, but I remember the pain. This searing pain like a white hot brand. It covered my entire body, burning and itching like an unbearable itch. I screamed and clawed my way, trying to do whatever I could to find a way out of whatever I was in."

As he talked, the Joker began twitching, just like someone that had an itch he could not scratch.

"I remember being dragged away and falling from a great height. The next thing I knew I was lying face down in the banks of Gotham River, the burning still evident on my skin. I clawed and scratched at the helmet, pulling it from my face and throwing it as far into the depths of the river as I could. I collapsed to my knees, scratching and clawing at my skin...and then I looked into the water. The moonlight reflected my face back at me and I could see the difference...the white skin, the green hair, the red lips, but the burning was all I cared about. I seared and it burned, as if I was slowly dissolving into nothing. I could feel my entire body start to go numb. I wanted to scream but I couldn't. Instead, I did nothing but laugh. It felt like a good thing to do. I laughed to take the pain away, I howled to stop the burning...but it still hasn't gone away to this day. It's still there, a tinge beneath my skin, like an incredible itch that never leaves you. And it's all because of him."

Joker gritted his teeth.

"I mean, he could have reached out. He could have saved me. He was the Batman after all, wasn't he?! He'd performing death-defying stunts a million times before that. I'd seen them on the news! All he had to do was reach out and grab my hand...but instead he let me fall and turned me into what I am now."

Harleen couldn't believe it. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes. She had expected a story but not something like that. Something so...emotionally gut-wrenching. She didn't know what to do. Instinctively, she looked at the clock behind her and found that it was a few minutes before the end of the session.

"I believe that's all the time we have." Harleen coughed and rose to her feet. "Thank you, Mr. J, I hope that helped."

"You know, Harley, I think it did." Joker returned to his grin almost immediately. "You're a kind soul. I feel as if I could share anything with you."

"I'm glad you think so, Mr. J." Harleen smiled. "I'd do anything I could to help you."


	9. Special Treatment

Leaving her office about ten minutes after her session with the Joker had ended, Harleen couldn't believe the story that the Joker had told her. It was so horrific, the fact that he had been just a normal person that had been turned into something that was hated by the people he once lived like. It made Harleen quite sick to her stomach. He could have been completely different, a functioning member of society, but due to the inaction of the so called saviour of Gotham he was left as a maniac with multiple mental illnesses that Harleen was doing her very best to diagnose and cure.

Harleen did not understand it. She knew that The Batman was the man in charge of Gotham City. When the police could not handle a situation or a problem, then all they did was light up the signal in the sky and the problem would be solved. He was the protector, the one they called for when times were the worst. Harleen had not read a newspaper in recent months that did not feature some daring heroic by Gotham's Batman. Every time he rescued a cat out of a tree it was heavily publicised by the Gotham Gazette, with more and more attention being heaped upon him by the hour. His identity beyond the cowl was a mystery, with many online forum posts debating who exactly it could be. With suggestions from Harvey Dent to distinguished boxer Ted Grant, the usual theories were outside the box and unordinary.

Then there was his partner, his sidekick, his accomplice. Wherever Batman seemed to go, there was always another shortly behind him. Nicknamed 'Robin' by the press, the boy wonder that followed Batman around in order to save the day had been around almost as long as the caped crusader, but had gone through a significant appearance change within the last year or so. A few years ago, Harleen had noticed that the sidekick was leaner, thinner and more acrobatic than he was. With long black hair that mostly covered his face in the pictures, the boy was able to do death-defying acrobatics that Harleen wished she could do. But now it seemed that this 'Robin' had completely changed his style, cutting his hair shorter and beefing up a bit more. He prefer to slug it out with the criminals than run around them, favouring acrobatics a lot less.

Perhaps the Batman had tried to save him? Maybe Joker just didn't realize it. She wanted to talk about it but she had made a promise to Joker that as soon as the tape was off the entire story was confidential between just her and him. Harleen knew that she would have to keep her theories to herself, as much as it hurt her to do such a thing. She wanted to know the truth, to hear it from the Bat's mouth. Had he tried to save a man dressed in a red hood, or did he simply let the criminal fall to his supposed death? Only the man behind the cowl knew that answer.

Debating the subject for the next few minutes, it was Harleen's main topic of thought as she made her way towards Arkham Mansion. She had a meeting with Jeremiah to talk about the progress she had made with the Joker over the past month. He had said that he was pleased with her progress and was anxious to know more and more about the fabled Clown Prince, as he liked to refer to Joker as. Harleen did not have the gut to betray Joker's wishes and tell him about the encounter with Batman, but she definitely knew that it could be the breakthrough that she needed to help him. She wanted more time with the Joker, she wanted to really dig deep and talk with him more but she needed a longer schedule in order to do that.

Walking up the grand staircase towards the top level of the mansion, where Jeremiah Arkham would be holding the review as he did with all of his business, Harleen was almost always haunted by the creepiness of it all. The Mansion had obviously not changed from the day that it was built and decorated. The gothic feel to it all, the gargoyles that stared at you as you walked below them. All of it sent shivers down Harleen's spine as many things in the asylum seemed to do, but she did her best to ignore them and get on with what she had to do.

The doors to Jeremiah's office were the exact same as they always were. Cold, uninviting and made wood carved with intricate designs. Harleen had been here many times during her short time at the asylum, but it seemed to her that the study was passed down from generation to generation of the Arkham family, presented to those that would run the asylum. From Amadeus Arkham to the current Jeremiah Arkham, each administrator had worked and added their own touch to the study.

Knocking on the door, Harleen waited for about five minutes before it slowly creaked and slid open. Dr. Arkham stood in the doorframe as he normally did when he was welcoming people to his office. He did not smile at things except when he made a joke or when something pleased him, instead staring at Harleen with the eyes of someone who was fascinated at everything and everyone he came across. Harleen had come to enjoy his scientistic charm, he was better than half of the Arkham staff that she had come across during her time.

"Good afternoon, Harleen." Jeremiah welcomed her into his office with a wave of his hand. "I must say you are a little early. I wasn't expecting you for another five minutes."

"I like to be punctual, Jeremiah." Harleen walked towards his desk and took a seat, watching as Jeremiah did the same. "You know that."

"Indeed I do, Harleen." Jeremiah nodded. "You've been one of the most punctual and enthusiastic members of staff within the last few months."

"I do my best." Harleen smiled. "It's a pleasure to work here. I want to make sure that you and everyone else on the team recognizes that."

"We do, Harleen." Jeremiah looked at his computer and nodded quickly once more. "The board of directors is extremely pleased with the progress you've been making since you arrived, both on the Tetch and Joker cases. They feel you do quick, assertive and efficient work and it results in progress with your patients."

Harleen simply smiled as a response to his comments.

"Since I'm sure that you regard your work with Dr. Tetch to be a simple few weeks under Dr. Leland's tutelage, I would rather talk about your sessions with the Joker." Jeremiah folded his arms. "So, how do you think things are going?"

"Very well. He is a very co-operative patient who answers most of the questions I put forwards towards him. He is very open with his answers and looks to be eager to continue the sessions with me."

"You seem to have remarkably been able to make the Joker talk to you willingly, something that a lot of his former psychiatrists have been unable to do. I have to commend you for that, not many people would have worked so hard to get him to do so." Jeremiah continued, not bothering to hear Harleen's thoughts. "Like I said before, Harleen, the board of directors here at Arkham is extremely pleased and have hereby asked me to inform you that they will be personally watching the progress you make with the Joker. You are to be given whatever resources you require in order to successfully rehabilitate the Clown."

"I'm very grateful," Harleen grinned. "And speaking of that, there is something I need."

"Oh, well I'm glad you've had time to think about it and you're ready to make improvements!" Jeremiah clapped his hands together in surprise. "That's what I like about you, Harleen! You're always one step ahead! Now, please continue."

"In my recent sessions with the Joker, I feel as if my time is cut short with him when we are just getting started on the crucial points of his development and I feel that this may be stunting what progress I can make with him." Harleen clasped her hands together and leaned forwards towards the desk. "If I am able to get a longer time with the Joker and perhaps more sessions with him per week, I may be able to make a lot more significant progress in his rehabilitation."

Jeremiah took in what Harleen had just said and milled on it for a few seconds, nodding his head a lot as he made his decision. After a few minutes he looked at Harleen and sighed. "You do realize that I would have to compose an entirely new schedule based around your needs, Harleen?"

"I understand that, Jeremiah, I honestly do." Harleen tried not to sound too desperate, but did her very best to try and convince him in the same way she did during her interview for her role in the first place. "But imagine what a feat like curing the Joker of his problems could do for the asylum! The government funding that could come about from making such a dangerous psychopath into a functioning member of society again?."

Once again Jeremiah took his time in deciding. Harleen could tell that he valued what she was saying and it filled her full of pride. It was obvious that Jeremiah cared for his members of staff, especially the ones that shone in the eyes of the board of directors, a feat that in itself was a hard thing to accomplish. Harleen knew that she had earned the respect of a lot of people in the Arkham staff and security, but she hoped that it did not deteriorate when the fact that she had been handed main priority for her patients over the more experienced members of staff leaked out of the office.

"You make a good point." Jeremiah sighed. "I will agree to it for now. I am adding an extra hour onto your sessions with the Joker and I will look about trying to get you an extra day in the week on the schedule. I hope that'll be enough but it is all I can spare at the moment."

"Thank you, Jeremiah." Harleen grinned. "I'm sure that will be perfect."

"Now, is there anything else you might need?" Jeremiah folded his arms.

"No, I think that's it." Harleen smiled. "Unless you believe there's something else?"

"There is one thing." Jeremiah leaned back and stretched his back whilst sat on his chair. "Dr. Leland approached me a few days ago. She said a lot of the staff were concerned about the amount of time you spend on the Joker's case."

"I don't see how it is a problem, Jeremiah." Harleen sighed. "At least it shows that I am interested in the well-being of my patient."

"I know that's how it must seem, Harleen." Jeremiah nodded. "But I must remind you that the patient you are dealing with is the Joker. The fact that this homicidal maniac is known for the manipulation of his victims is something that should warn you off in the first place. I don't want you ending up as the newest member of his long line of victims. I hope that you keep a reasonably professional stance on this case, as it could be your downfall."

"I will try, Jeremiah." Harleen smiled. "But he is a truly fascinating subject."

"I know he is, Harleen." Jeremiah smiled back. "If you were not doing such a fine job I would have a half mind to come into your sessions and aid you. But I know for a fact that could possibly only hinder you."

"Very true, Jeremiah." Harleen chuckled. "I'm positively sure that Mister J would not appreciate another person sat in on our discussions."

Harleen immediately stopped herself. She realized it as soon as she said it. The thick accent that she had tried to hide since she arrived, the one that she had done her best to play down for the past few months, had immediately broken through as soon as she said those words. She immediately blushed but tried not to show it.

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow. "Mister J?"

"That's what he prefers to be called during our sessions." Harleen nodded. "Joker believes that calling him 'Mister Joker' is quite too long for his liking."

"Don't you think that could be considered a personal nickname, Harleen?" Jeremiah frowned.

"I will do whatever it takes to make him talk to me, Jeremiah." Harleen sighed. "If a personal nickname is what it takes then I don't mind it."

Jeremiah nodded, but did not answer back at her. Instead, he smiled and extended his hand. "Thank you again, Harleen, you're really making a difference in this place, and I'm not the only person who's recognized it. Even Dr. Strange says that you're a fine addition to the staff and it takes hard work to gain high praise from someone like him."

"I'll be sure to thank him when I next see him." Harleen stood up and shook Jeremiah's hand, before walking for the exit. "Goodnight, Jeremiah."

"Goodnight, Harleen." Jeremiah remained seated. "Keep up the good work."

"I will, Jeremiah, don't worry." Harleen smiled. "I can't wait for what's to come next."


	10. A Simple Telephone Call

**Hey guys and gals! Thank you so much for the amount of support you guys have heaped upon this story! The amount of follows, favourites and reviews I have had over the past few days since I published this story has blown my expectations out of the water. I'm glad that you are all enjoying this story as much as I enjoy writing it.**

 **Now, on with the show!**

* * *

Over the next few months, Harleen's sessions with the Joker continued to be as normal as they were. She continued to do the best that she could in her efforts to diagnose the problems that were wrong with him, continually writing down notes and asking him the hard hitting questions that she had been prided and commended for by the Arkham board. Nothing of note seemed to happen between them, with Joker letting on more and more clues about his origin and the current state of his mental psyche as time went on. Harleen had begun to diagnose him with a lot of common mental illnesses, but she also found that her incredible patient did not fully fit into the zones needed to successfully and officially diagnose him with it.

She wondered whether or not he did this on purpose. Whether the Joker was so clever that he hid certain aspects of his mental illnesses from her in order to make sure nobody could successfully diagnose him with something. There was no doubt that the Joker was one of the cleverest, wittiest and downright charming men that Harleen had ever met and it showed in their conversations and their sessions. He had a way of dragging her into his stories, enthralling her with his tales, making her laugh with his stories and making her sad with his memories.

Harleen started to feel for her patient. She saw him as a human being that had been through a traumatic and stressful life, including many experiences that would forever scar any normal person. She felt as if she had to do whatever she could in order to make him a better person, to successfully diagnose him and get him whatever he needed in order to become a stable man again.

She knew that she had been warned about the potential obsession that she was forming with the case and so Harleen tried her best to not get attached. But she also found that it was so hard for her to do so, with such a troubled man as the Joker sitting in front of her. The metal teeth, the small scars that dotted his cheeks, they all told a story of an abused man who had to become something sinister in order to survive.

However, the one thing that kept her from going over and over what was wrong with the Joker at night was the gym that she found. Harleen had been skeptical at getting back into doing acrobatics and gymnastics, but found it to be as exciting and fulfilling as she had when she was a child. She found it so easy to do, despite how long it had been since she had last performed any gymnastics at all. She was still flexible and could easy perform a backflip after a few failures, including one where she nearly landed on the top of her head. After a while though she found herself able to do acrobatics that would rival the skill of the Batman himself, at least that's what Harleen believed. Combing it all with a good few sessions in the gym itself per week and Harleen was becoming fitter and more healthier than she had ever been.

But the one thing, the one downside, to come out of Harleen's sessions with the Joker was that Harleen's direct funding from the Arkham board had reached down the pipeline and made its way to the other doctors. Many of them were pleased for her, including her good friend Dr. Leland, but a lot more were not. People like Dr. Elliot and Dr. Strange saw that Harleen was becoming more and more of an egotistical big shot and could potentially but a damper on their careers with her success. Harleen had only heard rumours but she was also quite shocked about how venomous someone could be when their livelihood was on the line. She did not let it bother her though, and continued on with her daily routine as she normally had.

However, the patients had somehow managed to find out about it as well, probably tipped off by a member of staff. This also meant that the Joker knew about Harleen's special treatment. And boy did he know he would benefit from it all. Harleen was shocked about how much he blackmailed her into getting him new things, such as a bigger cell, a private space in the canteen. You name it, he got it in the name of 'helping him make valuable progress'. Joker knew that the asylum higher-ups wanted him cured due to the amount of positive press they would gain from it all and he milked it in front of the adoring crowds.

In recent weeks, however, the Joker had become more restless than normal. He struggled with his straitjacket more, he refused to answer questions and even caused a lot of fights in the yard. Harleen had even heard a story where he ripped half of another inmate's ear off in the canteen because he hadn't been served enough food. Stuff like that was horrific, but it did make Harleen chuckle. Sometimes the Joker was one of the most childish men that Harleen had ever met, but she thought that it added more to his charm. She knew that she had to talk to him about it and get to the bottom of it all, but how she would do that she would have to figure out.

So she sat in her office, waiting for the Joker to make his appearance. She had allowed the security to become more relaxed since she had her last review, including making the high order to have Cash taken off the case and assigned elsewhere. However, now it seemed that her order had been counteracted. More guards than ever were trained on Joker, who just seemed to be as tense and rowdy as they were. Harleen watched from the window as they opened her door, forcefully pushing him inside the door before following him inside.

"Sit down, Clown." One of the guards ordered.

"I think that's enough." Harleen growled, holding her hand up. "I would rather you don't order my patient around in his time."

"Sorry, Doc." The guard replied. "But he's trouble, especially in recent days."

"Yes, I understand that." Harleen nodded. "But that does not mean you have to bully him into obedience."

"Sorry, Doc." The guard nodded.

"Apology accepted, now please leave." Harleen folded her arms and glanced towards the door. "I would like to respect my patient's confidentiality."

Without another word, the guard grunted and signalled to his comrades, before they all exited through the door and forcefully closed it behind them. The Joker, sat silent in his seat with his head down throughout the entire conversation, immediately rose his head up and started to cackle as he normally did.

"You sure showed him who's in charge!" Joker grinned. "I'd give you a round of applause but...as you can see, I'm rather restrained."

"And for good reason." Harleen grabbed her pen and twisted it between her fingers. "You've been a lot more rebellious lately, Mr. J."

The Joker did not voice his opinion, instead simply grinning in approval.

"Do you mind telling me why?" Harleen folded her arms.

"It's simple." Joker continued to grin. "I'm bored."

"What do you mean, bored?" Harleen raised an eyebrow.

"I don't want to be in here anymore, Harley!" Joker growled. "It's very quite boring! I don't have anywhere to go. No friends, no people to talk with! Nothing!"

"Are you trying to me that you're lonely?" Harleen tried to hide a smirk.

"It's not funny, Harley." Joker snarled, his face darkening. "I make the jokes here."

"Sorry, Mr. J." Harleen sighed.

"And to answer your question, no, I'm not lonely." Joker bit his bottom lip in frustration. "I just don't have the connections that I want in here."

"That's what happens when you're in prison, Mr. J." Harleen smiled. "You get cut off from the rest of the world."

"Yes, well I don't want to be." Joker growled. "I want a phone call."

Harleen sighed. He was being his normal self. Childish, grumpy and downright arrogant. Something had obviously happened to him that had put him into this foul mood, Harleen could see it from a mile away.

"Why do you want a phone call? Has something happened?" Harleen raised an eyebrow.

"It's none of your business." Joker frowned. "It's Joker business."

"Mister J, if it helps you get out of here then you should talk about it." Harleen folded her arms. "I promise I won't tell anyone about it. Patient confidentiality and all."

Joker brooded on what his answer would be, occasionally muttering something to himself, before looking back up at Harleen.

"I had some news a couple of weeks ago." Joker sighed. "It seems that Cobblepot is raiding places on my turf."

"Why is that a problem?" Harleen raised her eyebrow once more in surprise. "Doesn't Cobblepot answer to you like the rest?"

"He did. That's the problem." Joker spat. "It seems Penguin is getting confident while I'm behind bars. Someone needs to teach him a lesson."

"Can't your gang do that?" Harleen tried her best to remember what he had taught her about gang warfare.

"Nah, Penguin's too cunning for that." Joker shook his head. "He'd smell it from a mile away."

"Why do you call him Penguin, if I may ask?" Harleen was curious. It was a very odd nickname for someone to have.

"He has a pointy nose." Joker cackled. "And a wobble. Like a penguin."

Harleen couldn't help but laugh. If any other person had told her that, she would have remained professional. But there was something about him that just caused her to laugh. It wasn't a full on laugh like his normally was, but it was definitely a chuckle.

"Anyway, back on topic." Joker immediately stopped laughing as his face darkened once more. "Is there any way I can use a phone?"

"Mr. J, you know we don't allow inmates to use phones." Harleen sighed. It was true, all patients were forbidden to use any type of contact to outside world due to how dangerous they were. "I'm sorry."

"Please, Harleen." Joker looked her dead in the eyes. "You said that you'd do anything to help me. You've already broken enough rules. How about breaking another one?"

Harleen sighed. It was true, she had said that. She also knew that if she did not comply with what Joker said then he would probably stop talking to her and she would lose all the valuable progress so far. Once again she was playing another round of his game and this time it was completely sudden death.

"Okay, Mister J." Harleen sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"I need your mobile phone." Joker smiled. "There's a rather corrupt guard who works here. His name's Boles. Frank Boles. Let's just say that he works for me. He's usually on shift at the lobby, luckily near the staff room. Give the phone to him and he'll do the rest. Hand him the phone after this session and you'll have it back by the end of the day, including a gift from me and my gratitude."

Harleen's eyes widened. The Joker was so powerful that he even had people in the Arkham security that did his bidding. Harleen knew that he was a big-time gang leader, she knew that he was basically the King of Gotham but she had no idea that his reach spanned that much.

She did not answer, but instead nodded. Looking behind her, Harleen noticed. "I believe that our session is over, Mr. J."

"That's the spirit, Harley." Joker grinned. "You'll make a fine criminal."

"I'm not a criminal." Harleen frowned. "I'm doing whatever it takes to get you out of here."

"Sure you are." Joker smiled. "And I'm sure that'll all pay off in the end."

* * *

As much as she didn't want to do it, Harleen knew that she needed to go along with it all. She was sure that the Joker did not forget her friends and that it would all pay off in the end like he said it would, but it made her feel rotten just doing it. She was betraying everything that a psychiatrist stood for, breaking the rules of the asylum in order to get ahead of the game. As soon as the Joker was escorted from her office and the session was officially ended, Harleen stood up and exited the room. Heading towards the staff room, her nerves and her anxiety flared up worse than she had ever felt before. She knew that all of this was wrong, completely and utterly wrong, but she knew that she needed to do it for the sake of her career.

It was true what they said. When you work in Gotham City, you don't stay true and straight for long. Sooner or later you'll bend and crack, and this is what Harleen was doing. She had been bought, she was no longer the honest professional she had always wanted to be. For now she was a corrupt psychiatrist in league with the Joker, the fiercest criminal that Gotham City had ever seen, but only Harley and the Joker needed to know that. She would do this job and go back to everything like it had been before. The Joker would be what he once was, just a patient under her care.

Walking into the staff room, Harleen tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. Much to her dismay, however, the only person in there was Dr. Leland.

"Of course." Harleen thought to herself. "How typical."

Walking in, Harleen went straight to her locker and then to her bag, pulling out her mobile phone. She immediatly turned it on and checked it, entering her password and looking to see if she had any messages of the sort. She believed it made her look a lot less guilty for what she was about to do.

"Harleen?" Joan looked up and smiled at her. "I didn't see you come in, I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright, Joan." Harleen chuckled in a slightly nervous fashion, scratching the back of her neck. "I'm not staying for long."

"Is everything alright?" Joan raised her eyebrow. "You seem a little nervous."

"What? No, I'm alright." Harleen smiled. "Joker's a little...intimidating lately."

"I get you, hun." Joan nodded. "Crazy freak."

"He's not that bad. I think he's a little misunderstood, actually." Harleen frowned inside, but tried to keep a straight face to not draw attention to herself. She had already been warned about growing attached.

"Whatever you say, Harleen." Joan smiled. "Now, aren't you finished for the day?"

"Yeah." Harleen nodded. "I'll probably be back in a few minutes. I'm just going to go to the bathroom."

"Alright then, see you in a few."

Without saying anything else, Harleen quickly left the staff room with her phone and headed straight for the lobby. Reaching it within a few minutes, Harleen opened the door and scanned it for a man by the name of Frank Boles. When she couldn't see him, she walked in and continued to look for him. Eventually, Harleen noticed a guard looking at her and moving his hand in a beckoning fashion. Walking towards him, he immediately and creepily turned his gaze towards her.

"Dr. Quinzel?" He whispered. "Do you have it?"

Without saying anything, Harleen pulled out her phone and handed it to him. With a smile, he pocketed it and nodded. "I'm sure Mr. J will be pleased."

Harleen simply nodded and walked away, trying to stop her hands from literally shaking as she looked around to see if there was anyone watching her.

She had done it.

And deep down, through all the fear and the anxiety,

She was excited for it. It felt good.

Breaking the rules was something that Harleen hadn't done for very long time.

And it was exactly how she remembered it.

Exhilarating.


	11. The Sins of the Father

Harleen wrestled with emotions that had overcome her by handing over her phone to Boles the day before. It felt wrong to do such a thing, but deep down it excited the old emotions from back when she was a rebellious teenager during her childhood. She hated how the Joker did this to her. How he somehow managed to cause her to wrestle with the emotions and the feelings that she had buried deep down and padlocked shut. They were fighting with her to get out, as much as she didn't want them to, she couldn't help it. Her memories were flooding back, feelings of ditziness and peaceful, playful existance. She had begun to remember what it was like to not have a care in the world, to be able to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted and not have to worry about the consequences those things she had done brought upon her.

Harleen knew that she was in control, but Harley Quinzel had woken up and now she wanted to play.

Entering her office when she next had a session with the Joker, Harleen saw one of the most strangest things she had ever witnessed in all of her time in Arkham. Sat there, on the desk was a box and a potted rose. She carefully walked towards them both, aware of what some of the crazies that lived here like to do to the staff from time to time. However, when she opened the box she found that it was just her phone. Pulling it out, she found that it was a brand new case than the battered plastic one she once had. Instead, it was a pinkish-purple colour with a cartoonish red heart on the back. She smiled, before realizing that there was something else inside the box. A letter, folded neatly so that it would fit underneath the phone in the box. Unfolding it, Harleen noticed that the letter smelt...weird. It was a strong smell and it caused her to cough when she breathed it in, but she ended up ending it with a small giggle from out of nowhere.

The letter was short and precise, but it definitely meant a lot.

Thanks for all of your help. This is just a small token of my gratitude. I hope you like the flower, I think it matches the lips that hold your smile.

Can't wait for our next session. See you soon.

\- Mister J

How had he managed to pull this off? Harleen knew that it was probably Frank Boles that placed the rose and the box in her office, but the idea that the Joker had managed to sort all of this out, get it all shipped to Arkham and placed in her office from one phone call showed how much power he truly had in Gotham. She didn't understand any of it, but that was a feeling that was completely realistic to her. She had barely grasped anything about the last few days and was hanging onto the events of her life by a thin thread in her own mind.

The Joker had sent her a gift. It was a fine notion, but it was one that she was seriously not expecting. Perhaps it was true, maybe he wasn't joking around with her and messing with her as he had been led onto believing. If he was simply using her as a pawn in his games, then why would he bother to send her a gift? Was he seriously considering her as a friend and a confidante inside of the Asylum?

Harleen didn't understand any of it. Her mind was a mess. She had another session with the man himself in a few minutes and couldn't even think straight herself. She took her phone and pocketed it in her pants, before taking the rose and putting on one of the empty shelves she was leaving space on in order to put something special upon. Without having any time to think about anything, Harleen took a seat and did her best to organize herself in preparation for her next session.

When he finally arrived, the Joker seemed more smug than usual. Calmly walking into the office, not fighting with the restraints of his straightjacket or making sure he wasn't stepping on anything that could harm his bare feet, nothing. He simply waltzed straight into her office and took a seat down in front of Harleen.

"Good morning, Dr. Quinzel." Joker smiled, his metal teeth glistening in the sunlight. "How's my favourite psychiatrist?"

"Erm, good, Mr. J, yeah." Harleen sighed, looking over the notes she had made during her past few sessions. "How are things with you? You seem a lot happier than you were earlier in the week in our last session together."

"Well, Harley, that's because you did exactly what I asked." Joker nodded slowly. "I managed to have a good long talk with my friends and I told them exactly what I wanted to tell them, all thanks to you! You've been a big help."

"I did my best, Mr. J." Harleen simply smiled. "If it helps in your rehabilitation then I'm willing to try anything."

"It certainly has, dear Harley." Joker smiled back. "And now I guess I'm in the mood to do some talking. What have you got lined up for me today, Doc?"

Harleen continued to rummage around in her notebook, flipping through pages until she finally reached the one she wanted. "Well, let's see. I want to go back to when you were a child. Can you remember that far back?"

"What has this got to do with anything?" Joker frowned. "I'm surprised you don't want to hear any more about my hilarious stories."

"Mr. J, a lot of people with mental illnesses suffer with their problems due to bad things that happened to them whilst they were growing up." Harleen sighed. "A lot of bad experiences during your childhood and it sets the tone for the rest of your adult life."

Joker was silent. He seemed to be mulling something over as he normally did, but looked as if he was remembering something. With a sigh, he nodded to himself. "You know, my father used to beat me up pretty badly."

Harleen's eyes widened. She hadn't expected that. In fact she was expecting anything but that. She was expecting a story about how is childhood was greater than she could realize and a detailed expression of all the things a young Joker used to get up to. But she didn't get that, instead...she got this.

"Every time I stepped out of line, he'd hit me." Joker sighed. "Sometimes I'd just be sitting there, minding my own business and he'd strike my around the head."

"That's horrible." Harleen spoke up.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Joker nodded. "I don't even know what I did to deserve it, even to this day. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn't exactly the man he wanted me to be. It might of been the fact that I didn't do sports or enjoying the same ones as him, or the idea that I spent most of my time indoors unlike the other kids on our street. To him, I was a great big disappointment. I guess I just wasn't worthy of his legacy."

Joker then perked up a little. "But there was only one time I ever saw my dad really happy, and that was when he took us to the circus. My dad loved the circus, he used to say that all the time. I don't know why he took me, the great big disappointment. Maybe my mother had told him to, or maybe he wanted to see if that would give us something to talk about and that we'd find a common interest. And it was fun. I remember all the clowns running around, dropping their pants and squeezing their red noses."

Joker started to chuckle. "My old man laughed so hard. I hadn't seen him laugh before, except that day. He laughed all the way home, talking about how he loved it all the way home in the car. It made me feel good inside, you know? To see my dad laugh. Amidst my disappointment and all the alcohol he used to drink, it was good that at least something as silly as a clown dropping his pants could make him almost bust a gut."

Harleen was enthralled. She was listened intently, hanging off of his every word as he had done with his story about the chemical plant. The fact that he had such a tough life and could still laugh about it was heartbreaking. Harleen could see it all now. Behind the chalk white skin and the sadistic eyes was a sad little boy who never got the attention of the man who should be his role model, the man that every little boy is supposed to look up to and be inspired.

"And this is the best part." Joker's laughter started to get more powerful as he talked. "I loved the idea of my dad laughing so much that I wanted him to do it again. I wanted to drag him away from the alcohol that made him drunk or the life that made him miserable and make him laugh. Me, the great big bad disappointment in his life. I wanted to be the one that would try and mend the bridge that life had made between us. So, the very next night when he got home from work, I went through his wardrobe and pulled a pair of his suit trousers, the ones he'd wear when he went for Sunday dinner or for a night out at a fancy restaurant. So, I ran downstairs with these pants down to my ankles and yelled "Look at me, Dad! Look at me!" And, making it as comedic as I could, I took a great dramatic fall and ripped the crotch straight out of the pants!"

Joker burst into one of his signature cackles, but this one was different. This laugh was from the very bottom of his heart. And it made Harleen laugh as well. The fact that she was finally seeing him as a happy patient, someone that reminisce about old memories in a positive light, it all made her smile.

But then, Joker suddenly stopped laughing, as if someone had flipped a switch in his brain to make him do so.

"He didn't see the funny side of it." Joker sighed. "Instead of laughing his head off like he had at the circus when the clowns did it. He flew into a rage. He berated me for tearing a hole in his best pants, he said that I should act my age and not bother with stupid comedy stunts. And then, to prove his point, he broke my nose in two places."

Joker nodded a few times, before chuckling a little and turning to Harleen.

"But I guess that's what you get, the downside of comedy. You're always taking shots from folks who just don't get the joke. Like my dad, or Batman."

Harleen was speechless. Everything seemed so fine, so perfect, and then it had been ripped away like the violent end of a fairytale. Things were going so well, she could see the ending that the Joker had wanted, and then it had been ripped away like a gruesome end to a nightmare.

"He's crazy, you know." Joker nodded. "Like me."

"Who is?" Harleen immediately snapped back into reality.

"The Batman." Joker smiled. "I can see it in his eyes. Screaming mad. And dishonest, hiding his face behind a frightening mask. He's nothing like me, no, I have nothing to hide. I laugh at the cruel absurdity of the world. But Batman...no, no, no he's got them all fooled. He's made them think that he can make a difference. That he can actually make things better in the city. And the cruel irony behind his joke is that they all believe it."

"The police?" Harleen asked inquisitively.

"The police, the media, everyone! Every last sack of walking meat in this urban cesspool of a city. Batman knows we're all in the same fun house slide into madness, but why won't he admit it? He's up there on the rooftops, looking down and laughing at us! And the real gag of the entire story is that he's allowed to run free while I'm stuck in here, telling you the truth while strapped into this pathetic jacket."

"Wow, Mr. J." Harleen sighed. "That's really incisive. I'm sure this'll go a long way to helping you recover and get back out there. Thank you."

"Any time, dear Harley." Joker smiled. "You know, you're really sweet. You remind me of another woman in my life, someone sweeter than you can ever imagine..."

Joker's eyes widened and he suddenly stopped. He closed his eyes and trembled a little. Harleen had never seen him like this before, as if he was pouring his heart out into her hands. She couldn't believe it.

"Take your time, Mr. J." Harley smiled. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I had a wife once, a long time ago." Joker muttered. "She was the sweetest thing in the world. She had an accent like yours, just thicker and more pronounced. Oh, she was one of the only people in the world who could truly make me smile. The other was my mother. They were both angels. She always told me, my wife, that I worried too much about the problems in my comedy career. She always said that I should do what the audience should do and smile. But then the accident happens and I end up like this. I couldn't go back to her, not after everything that happened. She was too perfect to be seen with someone like me. So I left and never went back. She's probably out there, married to someone who wasn't such a loser like me, with numerous children that aren't disappointments to their parents like I was to mine."

"Don't talk like that, Mr. J." Harleen sighed. "You're perfect the way you are. All these bad experiences, they just defined your character. You're unique. Only you can say that."

Joker didn't reply, instead he just sat there, breathing heavily. Eventually, he spoke up once more.

"She had this cute nickname for me." Joker smiled. "It was nice. Every time I'd come home she'd greet me at the door and call me that."

"What was it?" Harleen smiled.

"Puddin'."


	12. A Dark Encounter

Coming out of her previous session with the Joker, Harleen was almost mentally traumatized. She had sat there and listened, taking in so much about the Joker's past and the things going on inside his head. She had made some of the most valuable progress that she would ever make in a session with the fabled Clown Prince. She had found his innermost memories, the childhood trauma, the emotional trauma, all that could have possibly turned him into who he was today, the reason why he was sat in front of her week after week in a straitjacket, forced to do nothing but pour his heart out to her in an effort for the pain to go away. That was what the Joker needed, he needed someone that he could pour his heart out to in order to feel better.

Harleen did not know what to do with all of this information. Should she go to Jeremiah with the notes she made and present her findings on what exactly had turned the Joker into the psychopathic maniac that he was? The true origin of the King of Gotham was between her fingertips, and it was now that she was having a moral dilemma. She knew that it would not take Jeremiah very long to figure out exactly what was wrong with the Joker and hand the case over to the medical staff who would give him the drugs and the specific treatment that he needed to overcome it. But she knew that would do nothing but put the Joker through way more pain and anguish than what was needed.

Making a decision, one of the most hardest that she had ever had to make in her life, Harleen stood up from her desk, holding her notebook, before opening one of the drawers and gently placing the book inside. They were her notes to keep and she would do what she wanted with them. But the Joker did not need any more torture, whether it be emotionally or physically, he needed help. Harleen knew that the Joker needed a friend to help him, he needed someone that could make him feel better. He didn't need a psychiatrist, he needed a confidante. Someone that could do their best to make him feel like his life didn't need to revolve around his criminal empire.

Looking out of the window and into the grounds of the asylum, Harleen sighed. Was this it? Was this the point where all rational thought went out of the window? She was professional psychiatrist Harleen Quinzel, the woman bordering on the brink of curing the world-renowned psychopath known only as The Joker. The money that she would make from publishing her notes could set her up for life. She would have everything that she needed, a nice house, enough money to have a nice car and perhaps set up her own psychiatric clinic, working with people that she wanted to work with. But Harleen knew know that she didn't want that, as much as it pained her. The idea of cashing in the notes she had made on a traumatized man were too painful for her to comprehend. She would be betraying him, using him for her own benefit. Harleen could not do that to him, not after everything that they had been through over the past six months.

She knew that she needed to do something, to get him something in order to show that she cared. He had gotten her a flower to sound his appreciation of everything she had done to try and fix him, but she had not repaid the favour for him being such a good patient and a good first experience as a proper psychiatrist.

Leaving her office, she knew that she no longer had any reason to be at the asylum for the day. Sure, she could stay and chat with her colleagues and maybe go for a walk among the grounds but they were not the things on her mind at the current point in time. She was solely focused on the Joker, she could not take her mind from the situation. Her colleagues had warned about this obsession, that was what had kept her from complete and utter infatuation with her patient, but she did not care about it. If she was obsessed then she would have to live with being obsessed with him.

Harleen got changed out of her lab coat and grabbed her bags, before pulling out her phone and ordering a taxi to head downtown. Once it arrived, she checked out of the asylum and headed straight for where she wanted to go, straight into downtown Gotham City, where all the big boys played.

Her appointment with the Joker had been one of the later ones on the schedule, so the night had already overcome the dark. Harleen had been warned by her parents not to venture out into Gotham at night but she did not care, she needed the air to clear her head and set her priorities straight. Plus, she knew that her fridge was running short on things that she needed, including important things like milk.

Walking down the streets, Harleen noticed that no normal citizen was out. Instead, all the bums and hobos wandered the streets, pushing stolen shopping carts full of junk and sleeping under cardboard boxes in the bus stations. It made Harleen sick to think that this was what the city had been reduced to. These people were probably war veterans and people who used to matter, run down on their luck and without anything to help them change things around. Of course there would be the odd alcoholic or drug user who had driven themselves into the ground through their own volition by Harleen could not see those signs in the normal hobos she saw on the street.

Eventually reaching a corner shop that was still open, Harleen could hear music coming from one of the buildings nearby. She looked around a saw a nightclub that had a large queue outside, along with multiple posters that featured the same group of people all over again. Harleen realized that a popular band must have been playing at that point in time and had gained a considerable amount of followers going there. Harleen chuckled, she had been like that once, climbing through open windows and faking identity in order to get into nightclubs to see famous rockstars.

Making a mental note to go around the back and see what the band were like, Harleen entered the shop. She was welcomed into the store by the clerk, who smiled and told her to look around and ask if she needed something that they didn't have on the shelves. Smiling, she nodded and went about her shopping.

Gathering the bits and pieces that she needed for the night ahead, Harleen headed to the counter and pulled out her purse. As she put her card into the credit machine and bergan to pay, she saw a cute little toy hanging from one of the racks behind the man. It was this small grey kitten, made perfectly as a gift for a little kid. She did not know why, but her mind suddenly flicked back to the Joker.

"How much for that kitten at the back?" Harleen asked.

"Oh, that?" The clerk smiled. "I'd say about twenty cents."

Smiling, Harleen fished around in her purse for twenty cents and handed it to the clerk, who in turn quickly handed it to Harleen. Still smiling, she looked at the kitten and moved its paws a little, before placing it in her bag. She finished paying for the rest of her items and watched as the clerk bagged them, before thanking him and quickly exiting the store. Looking around, she saw the smoke in the air from the trainlines above and made her way home.

Crossing the road, however, she walked down the alley behind the nightclub where that band she had heard were playing. She noticed the back door and tried to open it, but found that it was locked. She cursed for a second, before chuckling as memories of going through backdoors came back to her. With a sigh, she turned around and continued to walk down the alley.

However, as she walked, a man stepped out from the shadows. He was another homeless man like the countless others that she had seen on her way to the shops, but this one was different. Harleen could see the desperation in his eyes, the bags that showed he had not slept for what seemed like forever and the shakiness of his hands showed that he was nervous. He started to walk towards her, which caused Harleen to start taking steps back at the same pace. Eventually, he stopped and pulled out a handgun from his coat pocket.

"I want your purse, lady." He growled, shaking his gun at her. "This doesn't have to be difficult. Just hand it over."

"Okay, okay." Harleen smiled, trying not to sound nervous. "I'll give it to you, just be calm."

Harleen opened her bag up and pulled out her purse, before looking to hand it over to the man. His hands were shaky, as shown by how quickly he snatched it from her hands.

"What else have you got?" The man growled.

"I haven't got anything else, I'm sorry." Harleen held her spare hand up.

"Bullshit." The man took a step towards her.

"She said that she hasn't got anything else." A voice called from behind Harleen's back. She had not noticed that the music had died down amidst the confrontation and had also obviously not heard the back door swing open. As she turned around, she found a man with shaggy black hair, black eyeliner and a cigarette in his mouth. He couldn't have been older than his mid-twenties. Dressed in a black leather biker's jacket that was accented with a deep blue, he casually started to walk towards the man. Harleen was certain that she had seen his face before.

"Look man, this isn't your problem." The hobo growled, taking a step back.

"And that's not your purse." The man continued to walk forwards. "As much as I'm sure it looks dashing on you. Now hand it over."

Immediately doing as he said, the biker threw the purse at the man.

"Good man, you can listen." He chuckled. "Now get out of here before I break your face."

Nodding quickly, the hobo set off running the way he had come out of the shadows. The man then turned around and looked at Harleen.

"You alright, miss?" The man handed Harleen's purse back to her.

"Quinzel. Harleen Quinzel." She smiled, placing it back into her bag.

"Well, Miss. Quinzel, did he hurt you at all?" The man looked around to make sure nobody was around. "Bloody idiot."

"No, I'm fine, honestly." Harleen smiled. "Thank you though, Mr...?"

The man took a step back and raised his eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"What?" Harleen also took a step back, a little defensive.

"You don't know who I am?" The man chuckled once more. "That's a surprise."

"No, am I supposed to?" Harleen smiled.

"Well, you did almost get mugged behind the building of one of my concerts." The man smiled. "Name's Dick Grayson, leader singer of the band known as Nightwing."

"Oh, I'm not one for heavy metal." Harleen joked. "Not anymore, at least."

"You can't please everybody, I guess." Dick took his cigarette from his mouth and blew smoke into the air, before dropping it to the floor and crushing it with his heel.

"Dick?" Harleen raised an eyebrow. "Is that short for Richard?"

"Spot on, Miss Quinzel." Dick grinned. "You'd make a fine detective."

"I'm a psychiatrist." Harleen chuckled. "So, I guess I am."

"Well then, I'm guessing you work at Arkham?" Dick folded his arms. "Although by your accent I can tell you're from Bludhaven."

"Correct and correct." Harleen grinned.

"Well, be careful. There's a lot of clowns and crazies in Arkham." Grayson smiled. "I know that for a fact."

At that point, the backdoor opened again. A young woman about Harleen's age poked her head through the door. "Dick, you good? Break's almost over."

"Yeah, be there in a second, Selina." Dick nodded. "This young lady nearly got mugged."

"Jeez, bad luck." Selina gasped. "You alright, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harleen nodded. "Good luck with the show."

Selina smiled. "We don't need luck when we've got Grayson. He makes his own luck."

"Go and get prepped, Selina." Grayson folded his arms.

Selina simply smiled and shut the door.

"Now, are you sure you'll be alright?" Dick raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'll be fine, thank you again." Harleen nodded.

"Alright then, take care, Miss Quinzel." Dick smiled. "I hope we meet again."

"Me too, Mr. Grayson." Harleen smiled. "Me too."


	13. Don't Trust The Clown

The run-in with the mugger last night set Harleen straight for her while. She immediately went home and put her shopping away, before emptying her bag of what she needed and putting her pyjamas on. As she sat on her sofa, however, her eyes were drawn to the small grey kitten that she had bought from the corner store. It was elegantly made, composed of two different colours of grey cloth. It looked like something that you would give as a gift to someone in hospital when they had an injury, a little token to show that you cared about them in their current situation.

She played with the kitten for a few minutes, bending it's paws and moving it around. The entire experience put a smile on Harleen's face. It was such a childish thing to do, but Harleen enjoyed it nonetheless. It was good to be childish every once in a while, especially when you were alone and with nothing to do. She eventually managed to tear herself away from her new gift and make some dinner for herself, all the while thinking about how much of an excellent gift it to would be for the Joker. Once she had done all that, Harleen settled down for the night and switched on the TV, trying to take her mind off of everything that had happened over the last few hours.

The next day that she had a session at the asylum, Harleen found herself up bright and early. She did her morning routine and ordered a taxi to the asylum as she normally did. Changing into a red blouse, tight brown pants and black high heels, she checked that she had everything that she needed for the day ahead and went down to the street to patiently wait for her taxi to arrive.

By the time she arrived at the asylum, she seemed to be the last one there. Everyone else's cars were parked up and it was lucky that she did not have her own car due to the lack of parking spaces. Harleen wasn't surprised by the amount of cars, especially when she had her sessions later on in the day ever since the schedule had been changing for her to have longer sessions more times a week with the Joker. She paid her taxi driver and entered the asylum, quickly signing her name in and walking through the doors to the lobby. She then walked straight for the staff room and prepared for the rest of her day. As she changed and put all of her stuff away, Harleen made sure she put the kitty in the side pocket of her lab coat.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan, by Harleen's standards. She had chatted with her colleagues, including helping both Dr. Leland and Dr. Young on their respective cases, before telling them all about her progress with the Joker. She did not mention anything at all about the stories that he had told her about, instead mainly focusing on her theories as to what exactly was wrong with him. Eventually, one by one the doctors went to their respective sessions, leaving Harleen nothing to do but go to her office and wait for a while until her session with the Joker was about to start.

By the time the session was about to come around, Harleen had prepared herself in the best usual and possible way. Her notebook was out, her pen was ready and she was absolutely prepared for anything that the Joker could verbally throw at him. As the Joker arrived, Harleen noticed that something was not quite right. It seemed that the Joker was speaking to someone who was escorting him as if they were the best of friends. The guard didn't respond that much, but Joker seemed a lot more energetic than usual.

Entering the office, Joker watched as the guards closed the door behind him. He then walked towards the desk, sitting down in his chair and smiling straight at her.

"Good morning, Dr. Quinzel." Joker was calm, more calm than he normally was.

"Good morning Mr. J." Harleen replied. "How've you been?"

"Excellent." Joker grinned. "Just excellent."

"That's great to hear." Harleen smiled in response. "It's good to see you're in such a good mood today."

"I'm always in a good mood when I have a session." Joker continued to grin. "You know, Doctor Quinzel, I live for these moments with you. They excite me to no end."

"I'm glad to hear that, Mr. J." Harleen started to reach into her pocket, where the soft kitten toy was lying, waiting to be used.

"Ooh?" Joker looked curious. "What've you got for me?"

"Well, I only thought it was the best I could do." Harleen smiled. "I'm not allowed to bring large gifts into the place, but I thought I had to get you something for being such a model patient over the last few months...so I got you a kitty."

"A gift." Joker smiled. "It's not often people give me gifts, Doctor. It's very...unexpected."

"Well, it's the least I could do." Harleen started to move the toy's paws with her fingers. "I hope you like it."

"I do, indeed." Joker smiled, watching as she played with the kitten. "You're so thoughtful."

Pushing the kitten towards his end of the desk, Harleen moved the hair out of her eyes and began to look at her notes. As she was looking, however, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that the Joker had turned his attention from the toy and was now directly looking at her.

"You know very well, Dr. Quinzel, that I look after those people who do me favours." Joker smiled.

"You know I'd do anything to help you get out of here, Mr. J." Harleen smiled.

"Well, there is a certain something you can do for me, Doctor." Joker grinned.

"Anything, I mean, yeah." Harleen immediately perked up.

"As you know, Doctor Quinzel, I've been trapped. Restrained in this jacket for the longest time. Every time that I see you, you don't see me fully." Joker sighed. "So, I was wondering whether or not you would help me to get out of this damn thing."

Harleen's eyes widened. "Mr. J, you're in that jacket for my protection."

"And I appreciate that, Harley. But that's why I'm hoping that you'll see it as an itsy bitsy favour. I just want to stretch my arms for a little while. You'll be perfectly safe."

Sighing, Harleen took a while to answer but eventually nodded her head. He had been true to her with his promises so far and she was completely sure that he would keep his word and not hurt her. "Okay, Mr. J. But you have to promise me that you won't hurt me."

"On my mother's life." Joker squinted and smiled at her, moving his head from side to side a little as he did so.

Harleen took a deep breath and stood up behind her desk. She slowly moved around and watched as the Joker rose to his feet. He turned around immediately and allowed her to undie the straps that tied Joker together, before pulling the thing off of him and allowing herself to fully see his full body. Only then could Harleen fully see the tattoos that covered his entire body. Since he was wearing no shirt underneath the jacket, Harleen looked straight at the tattoos all over his chest. The skull with the jester hat on, the repeated 'HA's, the playing cards on his neck, the smile over his belly button, the multiple tattoos on his arms and his hands, including the smile on his lower arm and on his hand respectively. Harleen couldn't believe any of it, the beauty and the craziness left her in a state of shock.

This allowed the Joker to do whatever he wanted.

Turning around, Joker stretched his arms and grinned. "The problem is, Harley, I couldn't give a damn about my mother."

Harleen wasn't expecting it. Suddenly, she tumbled to the floor as the Joker's hands pressed right into her shoulders, almost slamming her head straight on the floor. Joker then walked straight towards her desk and crouched down on his knees, before hovering his thumb over the panic button she had installed and slamming down on it, sending alarms off all over the asylum.

"Well then," Joker cackled. "Here we go!"

Turning to the door, Harleen watched as the security guards standing outside the door immediately rushed through, training their guns at the Joker. He placed his hands in the air, comfortable at the situation he was in. At the same time, Harleen began to stumble to her feet. She moved as far away from the Joker as she could, shocked at all the lies he had told her and the bitterness that he threw at her.

"Stop right there, clown!" One of the security guards shouted. "Don't move a muscle!"

"Oh don't worry." Joker grinned. "I won't have to."

Suddenly, without remorse, the security guard nearest to the door trained his guns at his comrades, shooting them all quickly and precisely in the part where their armour had its chinks. He then removed his helmet and his riot gear, showing off a three-piece black suit that he had wore especially for the day.

"Good to see you, boss." The man said, smiling at the Joker. "Especially good to talk when I'm not in character."

"Cut the chit-chat for now, Frost." Joker snarled. "We're not done here. Grab our precious Dr. Quinzel, we've got places to be!"

Joker immediately kicked one of the dead guards in the face and grabbed the machine gun lying at his feet, before firing a few bullets up in the air. He then rushed out of the office, shooting wherever he could in a chaotic frenzy, cackling the entire time. He walked down the corridor near the office window and did not show restraint at all, firing through the window into the yard with a psychotic stance.

"Come on boys!" Joker cackled, firing at the inmates and guards that were currently outside in the yard. "Let's have some fun!"

Harleen did not worry about what her patient was doing at the moment, with his accomplice steadily walking towards her. With no other option, Harleen began to scream at him. "Get away from me!"

"Dr. Quinzel." The man yelled back. "I really don't want to hurt you, doll."

Harleen simply grabbed the nearest thing, a large book from a bookshelf and threw it straight at the man's face. Not expecting it, the man dodged at the last second but caught the back of the book in the nose, stunning him for a second and allowing Harleen to make a last ditch attempt towards the door. The man was not dazed for long, though, and quickly cornered her once more before she reached the door. Grabbing her around her waist, the man lifted Harleen off of her feet and began to wrestle with her, the fierce blonde doing her best to free herself from his grip.

"Jesus, Mr. J's got a fiesty one here." He muttered to himself, moving his head away from whatever elbows she was trying to fling at him. "Calm down, lady!"

Eventually, the man simply began to bore of wrestling with her and tried to drag her away from the door, allowing Harleen to use her gymnastics training to push off from her desk and send him straight into the wall. The man's back connected with the brick and the impact forced him to drop her. Free, Harleen made the error of looking back to see what he was doing and was caught with a stiff punch to her forehead. Hitting the floor like a bag full of bricks, Harleen was straight down for the count.

Breathing heavily, the man simply grabbed his gun and flung Harleen over his shoulder, exiting the office to all the chaos around him.

* * *

By the time she managed to regain consciousness, Harleen had no idea what had happened. Her vision was blurry and her head beat like a drum. She was seeing two of everything around her and could not even get a grasp of where she was. Out of instinct of what she remembered, Harleen kicked out behind her with a scream and alerted the man carrying her to the fact that she was awake. In order to combat her, the man simply clenched his fist and drove his knuckles straight into one of the muscles in her back, causing Harleen to scream out in pain as she tried to fight his grip. However, amidst all of the scrambling and fighting for freedom. Harleen looked up and saw the words 'Electroconvulsion Ward'. Her eyes immediately widened to what was going on. She looked around here and did her best to try and get free of his grip once more, only to have him dig his knuckles forcefully into her back once more.

The electroconvulsive ward was where they kept all of the bays for electroshock therapy. Harleen always thought it was a brutal method of helping to relieve psychiatric illnesses, due to the idea of electrically inducing a seizure into a patient. It was a horrific form of treatment in Harleen's eyes, something that she never wanted to witness. But Harleen had no clue why she was being dragged to one of the treatment room and what exactly was going to happen.

On her way she saw countless bodies of both medical staff, psychiatrists that she had met and security guards. All of them lifeless in pools of blood. There was no remorse, no mercy and no regret to whatever these animals were doing.

As she was dragged into one of the treatment rooms, Harleen saw the horrific set-up laid before her. There was a bed with leather straps in the middle of the room, hooked up to a small machine with two metal rods. She could hear the sound of Queen's major hit 'Bohemian Rhapsody', which further added fuel the flame of her anger. She hated how calmly all of Joker's goons were going about all of it. Harleen began to fight more and more fiercly, kicking and punching at the man with all of her might. He dragged her over to the bed and placed her down, having to get another person to strap her legs in with the leather straps as he focused on ducking her punches and restraining the top half of her body.

Much to Harleen's horror, the two men managed to succeed.

She screamed and sobbed, covering her glasses with condensation from her tears. As much as she did not need the cheap things, they had become part of her outfit and she cared about them like she cared about all of her belongings. Eventually, the sound of Bohemian Rhapsody died down and was replaced by the maniacal laughter of the man she had come to recognize by the sound of it.

Joker walked through the door to the treatment room and rubbed his hands together, before holding them outstretched and bouncing around like a happy puppy who's owner had just come home. "Well then, what do we have here?!"

He immediately rushed forwards, pushing the light above Harleen's face directly towards her. He smiled at her from afar, a curious look on his face, before going close towards her once again. "Here we are, Harley. The roles are reversed."

"Why are you doing this?" Harleen sobbed. "After everything we've been through?"

"Everything we've been through?" Joker laughed. "Are you kidding me? You really think I'd tell my entire life story to some blonde klutz who wants to make a profit from it?"

Harleen's eyes widened. "You mean..."

"And now the lightbulb goes on!" Joker cackled, switching the ETC machine beside them on to it's lowest setting. The machine began to hum with electricity, allowing Joker to pick up the metal rods. "There's always been this thing about me. I've said it to every single person who asks me except you. If I wanted to know anything about my past, which I don't, I'd prefer it all to be a multiple choice flip-book."

"You lied to me!" Harleen screamed. "You played me for a damn fool!"

"That's right!" Joker cackled once more. "And you fell for it hook, line and sinker!"

"I thought you loved me." Harleen sighed. "I thought you cared."

"No, Dr. Quinzel," Joker smiled. "You love me."

Joker began to connect the rods with angst, the sound of connecting electricity zapping off of them in quick succession.

"Now you're gonna feel exactly how I felt." Joker smiled. "If they were all true of course.

"So, what?" Harleen looked up at him. "Are you gonna kill me, Mr. J?"

"No, I'm not gonna kill ya." Joker grinned. "I'm just gonna hurt ya, really, really, bad."

"You think so?" Harleen grinned in response. "Well, I can take it."

"Big words, pumpkin." Joker nodded. "Frost! The belt!"

Joker dropped one of the rods to the medical cart and grabbed a leather belt that had been flung towards him. With a smile, he shoved it straight into Harleen's mouth.

"You'll probably wanna bite down on that." Joker continued to grin. "Otherwise you'd probably bite through that lovely tongue of yours."

Picking up the other rod, Joker looked behind him. "Maestro! Music!"

The track of Bohemian Rhapsody was turned once again and Joker slammed the rods straight into Harleen's temples, sending a wave of electricity straight through Harleen's body. She immediately screamed and slammed her eyes shut, feeling the immense pain as the electricity coursed through her bones. She continued to scream and yell out in agony, all the while muffled by the strap in her mouth. She bit down harder on that belt than anything else she had ever done before, screaming into it as she started to convulse on the bed. She had to do something, something to take her mind from the pain.

And then everything went quiet, as if the world had muted. As she continued to scream, Harleen noticed that everything went black as her body began to shut down.

She could still feel it though, the pain roaring through her. She could feel herself moving with it, like a puppet on strings. She had to think of something, a nice memory that could take the pain away.

And with that, she opened a vault of memories that she had wanted to keep shut.

Harleen remembered everything. She hadn't always been Harleen Quinzel, famed psychiatrist to the criminally insane. A few years prior, she was Harley Quinzel, ditzy troublecauser and downright half-brained menace with a wicked sense of humour. She wore her hair in pigtails, wore more make up than she was used to and never listened to the rules that her teachers or her parents put out for her. In fact, the only reason that Harley had managed to pass her university examinations with such a high record was by giving all of her individual professors...'the time of their life' during afterschool detention.

All these memories came flooding back, taking over Harleen's brain like a swarm. The old Harley finally took control after many years in the backdrop of her mind, the Harley that had barely any inhibitions on what was right and what was wrong.

Harleen Quinzel was gone, lost forevermore. The professionalism that she had worked so hard to create had been ground into dust.

And then there was the Joker. Taking over her mind like a sickness. The new Harley immediately latched onto him, using the memories of their laughter and their bonding during their sessions to find something to hide the pain from the ETC. After a while, she had nothing but love for the man. She could not hide it, any of it. She would be the help that the traumatized man needed, not some stupid doctor that thought that thought that they knew the Joker better than her.

He had mentioned a nickname, one that he had enjoyed being called back before he became the Joker. He had said it made him feel so happy, so loved. Harley latched onto that nickname. If anything could make the Joker happy, it could possibly be being called that again for the very first time in what could be years.

He was her Puddin'.

And she'd never let him forget it.


	14. Aftermath

**Hello everyone! I'm glad that you all enjoyed the last chapter. It was one of the more fun chapters to write, putting my own take on what actually happened during the Joker's escape from Arkham in Suicide Squad. Thank you to the numerous people who have favourited and followed the story, as well as the people who have left reviews.**

 **And secretlysmitten, to answer your question, I anticipate this story to go for around at least six more chapters, depending on where I want to leave this. I am currently debating whether or not to follow this story up with a sequel, as I do not want to drag this part of their origin for too long.**

 **But anyway, without further ado, Chapter Fourteen! I hope you enjoy! :D**

* * *

Harley had stopped screaming. She could not remember when, but she felt her vocal chords stop vibrating the noise across the room. Her body yearned to relax, to stay still and recover from the ordeal that she had just been through. Harley still felt as if it was on fire, the nerves all over her electric hot. Even now and again she even felt her body buckle under the stress of being filled with electricity. Her mind was all over the place with memories, feelings and emotions. She remembered it all, the electricity coursing through her like she was an electrical current, the manic expression of the Joker has continually slammed the rods into her temples with remorse, basking in the sadistic pleasure that her screams brought him.

She could not forget any of it; she would never forget any of it.

Her eardrums continued to echo with the bone-chilling scream that erupted from her vocal chords, bouncing around inside the confines of her unconscious memory for what seemed like forever. She could not stop it as much as she wanted to, forced to listen to the noise of her own agony for what seemed like an age. She was in a permanent torture scenario, trapped in a bad dream that she could not wake up from.

But, eventually, Harley began to slowly open her eyes. Her head was beating like a drum and her ears screamed with white noise, but her eyesight was blurry and foggy. All around her she could see people, silhouttes that she didn't fully recognize. A large bright light shone down on her, engulfing her with a colour that caused her eyes to water in searing pain. She found herself very groggy and dilirious, unable to comprehend whatever was going on around her.

As the memories of her traumatic experience slowly began to come back to her, Harley found that she was no longer bound by restraints. Feeling as if she was still under some kind of danger or threat, she began to lash out, kicking and throwing her hands around in an effort to make sure she was safe and secure. Instead, she found herself struggling with a pair of hands that held gently onto her wrists, pushing her back. However, instead of feeling herself being pushed back down, Harley felt her back stop firmly onto something like a chair.

Calming down, Harley eventually began to hear a voice through the sound of nothingness that was screaming into her ears. "Harleen."

She recognized the voice.

"Harleen, sweetheart. It's alright."

The voice made her calm.

"It's alright. You're safe."

It was her Dad.

Immediately bursting into tears of both joy and sadness, Harley opened her eyes and tried to find her Dad. It did not take her long, however, as he grabbed her and pulled her into a tight, bear-like hug.

"You're safe, sweetheart." Her dad cooed. "It's alright. You're safe."

Eventually, Harley's vision, hearing and headache began to clear him. She knew that she was now in Gotham General Hospital and surrounded by friends and family, including all of her close family. From what she had been told by her parents, Harley was found exactly in the electroconvulsive therapy treatment room after everything that had happened, the place deserted and all alone. The Joker and his goons had deserted the premises as soon as Harley had lost consciousness, potentially saving her life by not continuing with the deadly voltages. Due to the shock and the stress, including the unsafe environment and the ETC being administered by an untrained person such as the Joker, who had actually no idea when to stop, the doctors had said that Harley was lucky to be alive.

Having been rushed to the hospital straight away, Harley was placed in an intensive care and had been unconscious for around 24 hours. Placed on an IV drip and given all the treatment for someone that had suffered a major electric shock, but with the added treatment for someone suffering with PTSD, Harley was in a stable condition by the time her family was informed and arrived on the scene, but unresponsive and in a unconscious comatose state.

Treated by the doctors when she was awoken, Harley was finally left alone with her family, including her brothers and her parents.

"What happened to everyone?" Harley asked. "My colleagues? Dr. Arkham?"

"We don't know, sweetie." Her mother replied. "A lot of people died in that madman's escape. I'm afraid that a lot of people you knew could've been hurt."

"And the Joker?" Harley raised her eyebrow.

"I don't know and you shouldn't care." her Dad piped up. "I swear if I ever see that scum..."

"He was my patient, Dad." Harley sighed. "He was my responsibility. I should never have trusted him. I was a fool."

Everything that Harley was speaking was a lie through her teeth. She trusted the Joker with her life. He had opened her eyes to what the world was truly like. She wanted to see him again, find out where exactly he was. She wanted him, no, she needed him. They had a fire between them, Harley could feel it.

"Stop it, don't think like that." Her dad growled. "You have no idea what he would do. He's an insane madman who tricked and manipulated you."

She could see that her Dad was livid, emotionally and physically. It almost made her want to audibly laugh. It was too cute for her to realize.

"Maybe." Harley smiled. "We'd come so far."

"I told you to stop thinking about it." Her dad looked directly at her. "You're done with him. You won't see him ever again."

Harley had stopped screaming. She could not remember when, but she felt her vocal chords stop vibrating the noise across the room. Her body yearned to relax, to stay sill and recover from the ordeal that she had just been through. Harley still felt as if it was on fire, the nerves all over her electric hot. Even now and again she even felt her body buckle under the stress of being filled with electricity. Her mind was all over the place with memories, feelings and emotions. She remembered it all, the electricity coursing through her like she was an electrical current, the manic expression of the Joker has continually slammed the rods into her temples with remorse, basking in the sadistic pleasure that her screams brought him.

She could not forget any of it; she would never forget any of it.

Her eardrums continued to echo with the bone-chilling scream that erupted from her vocal chords, bouncing around inside the confines of her unconscious memory for what seemed like forever. She could not stop it as much as she wanted to, forced to listen to the noise of her own agony for what seemed like an age. She was in a permanent torture scenario, trapped in a bad dream that she could not wake up from.

But, eventually, Harley began to slowly open her eyes. Her head was beating like a drum and her ears screamed with white noise, but her eyesight was blurry and foggy. All around her she could see people, silhouttes that she didn't fully recognize. A large bright light shone down on her, engulfing her with a colour that caused her eyes to water in searing pain. She found herself very groggy and dilirious, unable to comprehend whatever was going on around her.

As the memories of her traumatic experience slowly began to come back to her, Harley found that she was no longer bound by restraints. Feeling as if she was still under some kind of danger or threat, she began to lash out, kicking and throwing her hands around in an effort to make sure she was safe and secure. Instead, she found herself struggling with a pair of hands that held gently onto her wrists, pushing her back. However, instead of feeling herself being pushed back down, Harley felt her back stop firmly onto something like a chair.

Calming down, Harley eventually began to hear a voice through the sound of nothingness that was screaming into her ears. "Harleen."

She recognized the voice.

"Harleen, sweetheart. It's alright."

The voice made her calm.

"It's alright. You're safe."

It was her Dad.

Immediately bursting into tears of both joy and sadness, Harley opened her eyes and tried to find her Dad. It did not take her long, however, as he grabbed her and pulled her into a tight, bear-like hug.

"You're safe, sweetheart." Her dad cooed. "It's alright. You're safe."

* * *

Eventually, Harley's vision, hearing and headache began to clear him. She knew that she was now in Gotham General Hospital and surrounded by friends and family, including all of her close family. From what she had been told by her parents, Harley was found exactly in the electroconvulsive therapy treatment room after everything that had happened, the place deserted and all alone. The Joker and his goons had deserted the premises as soon as Harley had lost consciousness, potentially saving her life by not continuing with the deadly voltages. Due to the shock and the stress, including the unsafe environment and the ETC being administered by an untrained person such as the Joker, who had actually no idea when to stop, the doctors had said that Harley was lucky to be alive.

Having been rushed to the hospital straight away, Harley was placed in an intensive care and had been unconscious for around 24 hours. Placed on an IV drip and given all the treatment for someone that had suffered a major electric shock, but with the added treatment for someone suffering with post-traumatic stress, Harley was in a stable condition by the time her family was informed and arrived on the scene, but unresponsive and in a unconscious comatose state.

Treated by the doctors when she was awoken, Harley was finally left alone with her family, including her brothers and her parents.

"What happened to everyone?" Harley asked. "My colleagues? Dr. Arkham?"

"We don't know, sweetie." Her mother replied. "A lot of people died in that madman's escape. I'm afraid that a lot of people you knew could've been hurt."

"And the Joker?" Harley raised her eyebrow.

"I don't know and you shouldn't care." her Dad piped up. "I swear if I ever see that scum..."

"He was my patient, Dad." Harley sighed. "He was my responsibility. I should never have trusted him. I was a fool."

Everything that Harley was speaking was a lie through her teeth. She trusted the Joker with her life. He had opened her eyes to what the world was truly like. She wanted to see him again, find out where exactly he was. She wanted him, no, she needed him. They had a fire between them, Harley could feel it.

"Stop it, don't think like that." Her dad growled. "You have no idea what he would do. He's an insane madman who tricked and manipulated you."

She could see that her Dad was livid, emotionally and physically. It almost made her want to audibly laugh. It was too cute for her to realize.

"Maybe." Harley smiled. "We'd come so far."

"I told you to stop thinking about it." Her dad looked directly at her. "You're done with him. You won't see him ever again."

At that point, Harley saw that she had some other visitors. Two men, dressed in standard-issue police uniforms, walked from behind the curtain and into the small area around Harley's bed. With a smile, one of them moved around her Dad's chair.

"Miss Quinzel." He nodded. "My name is Detective Crispus Allen and this is my partner Detective Renee Montoya. It's good to hear that you're alright."

"Thank you, Detective Allen." Harley smiled. "Is this about what happened?"

"Yes, ma'am." Detective Allen smiled warmly. "If you're up to it, we'd like to ask you some questions."

"Absolutely not." Her Dad spoke up once more. "Detective, my daughter has been through a stressful time and has only just woken up..."

"Dad, it's alright." Harley held her hand up. "When you're ready, Detective."

"That's the thing, Dr. Quinzel." Detective Allen looked around. "As this is a Police Investigation into a serious criminal, I will have to kindly ask your visitors to step outside for a few moments."

Without a word, Harley looked around at her family. Her Mother and Brothers nodded and stood up, with her Mother dragging at her Dad's arm. With a grumble, her Dad stood up and followed his family outside with Detective Montoya following. Making sure that all of her family had gone, Detective Allen sat down on the seat that Harley's dad had been sat on a few moments prior.

"Thank you for this, Dr. Quinzel." Detective Allen smiled. "I know that this must be a very stressful and traumatic time for you."

"I'm fine, Detective Allen," Harleen smiled. "And please, call me Harley."

"Harley?" Detective Allen raised an eyebrow. "The few people I've spoken to have always referred to you as Harleen."

"I find that Harley is a lot nicer." Harley giggled. "Plus, Harleen is a bit too formal for my tastes."

"Very well." Allen widened his eyes and looked away for a few seconds, before turning back to her. "You were the Joker's therapist?"

"Correct." Harley smiled.

"And how long were you around him?"

"Not long at first." Harley looked around. "But the higher-ups at Arkham thought I was doing a great job and added more sessions with him to further my progress with him."

"I see." Allen continued. "And you were the only one to make contact with the Joker within those times?"

"Yes, sir." Harley smiled. "There was no-one else inside the room except me and Joker."

"Then, how may I ask, did the Joker manage to organize a full-scale riot inside Arkham? He must have had help from somewhere." Allen raised an eyebrow.

"He may have done," Harley nodded. "But it wasn't from me. I'm not that sort of gal."

"You were the last person to see the Joker prior to his escape, correct?"

"I believe so, Detective."

"Then tell me, Dr. Quinzel," Allen folded his arms. "How on Earth did the Joker manage to escape the restraints placed on him?"

"I don't know, Detective." Harley sighed. "It's all a blur. The first thing I know is that he is talking about his feelings and the next thing he's loose and causing havoc all over the asylum."

"Very well, Dr. Quinzel." Allen smiled, standing up from his chair. "Thank you for this. You've certainly been a big help. May we contact you in a few days, that is if you are out of here and back at home?"

"Sure thing, Detective Allen." Harley smiled. "Always happy to help the boys in blue!"

With a defensive smile, Detective Allen moved towards the curtain. "I'll leave you to your rest, Dr. Quinzel. I wish you a full recovery."

"Good luck on your hunt, Detective Allen." Harley smiled. "I hope you catch him."

Making sure that he had left, Harley looked around and giggled to herself.

"Because I certainly will."


	15. A New Lease On Life

**Hello, guys and gals! It's your old pal Travs, back with another chapter of this tale of two crazies. Thanks for all of the support you all continually keep giving to me, it's so appreciated and welcomed. I also appreciate all of the suggestions that you guys keep chiming in with on your reviews, I think that they're really fun to read and a few of you have a lot of interesting ideas. This chapter is quite short, but I feel it has a lot of information about what is going on in the story now, a lot of information that could possibly get lost if you read any more.**

 **This is what I like to call the checkpoint chapter, and I guess you'll see why!**

 **Enjoy, everyone!**

* * *

Over the next week or so, Harley was kept under close surveillance in hospital. The doctors wanted to make sure that there were no lingering side effects on her and that she did not develop any unusual symptoms. They were perfectly happy with her physical state, with nothing but burnt skin and blistering left on her temples to show from the traumatic experience, but were more concerned about her mental health. Many of the doctors that had taken a look at Harley and the experience that she had gone through made the suggestion that perhaps Harley could have been under so much pain and stress that she could have gone insane and were quite shocked to see that she was stable and functioning as a normal human being would.

But none of them knew the truth.

All of the time Harley was in the hospital, she thought of her Mr. J. She wondered where he was at the current time, what he was doing and whether or not he was safe. She wanted to know whether or not he was thinking of her. She found that she was completely and utterly madly in love with her former patient. She felt so compelled to him, enthralled by his stories and his ability to make her laugh with one simple joke. She felt as if he was her soulmate, that they were forever destined to be together and matched by fate. There was a part of her that knew these feelings were wrong, just the delusions of a madwoman who had through a traumatic time. The rational part of her brain knew the plain truth: She had been driven insane from the pain, but she loved every single minute of the insanity that envelloped her.

She was anxious to get out of the damn hospital bed she was restricted to, ready to get out in the outside world and see if her puddin' was out there looking, searching for her and trying to figure out where she was. Harley was sick to death of numerous different doctors she had never seen in her entire life coming up to her and asking her questions that could easily be explained by looking at her. She wanted Mr. J to come and rescue her, to break in and whisk out of the medical hell she had found herself in.

Luckily for Harley, she found that she was released at the end of the week. Cleared of everything and given a full bill of clean health, she found that she was finally ready to get back out into the outside world. There was now nothing stopping her from doing all the things that she had finally wanted to do, everything that she had dreamed about ever since she came to Gotham.

The Asylum had been shut down since the Joker and his goons had been on a rampage, setting free most of the major criminals that had been housed there. With multiple walls blown in, the Arkham mansion itself ransacked by all of the super-criminals and meta-humans that wanted to retrieve their belongings from Jeremiah's display cases and many members of the staff dead or seriously injured, it would be a while before Arkham would be fully up and running after a while. Harley had been put on paid sick leave, with many of the newspapers that had dug very deep having made her out to be one of the main casualties in the assault and escape.

According to a lot of the people who had visited her over the week that she was in hospital and from the news reports and newspapers she had both watched and read, Harley knew that she had been one of the lucky ones. Following the ransack of the asylum and the prisoner escape, Dr. Arkham had been relieved of his duties as the Asylum Administrator and replaced by another member of the Arkham Board, esteemed doctor and former mayoral candidate Quincy Sharp. Harley had never met the man before in her life, but by his name she already made the decision that she did not like him. Numerous people had been injured during the raid, including Dr. Elliot, who had been thrown through one of the windows of the asylum and suffered serious facial injuries that could possibly be irreversible. Also, it was rumoured that Aaron Cash had not been seen since the raid, with Harley making the assumption that he had been kidnapped by one of the criminals that had escaped.

The Joker had been confirmed to escaped from Arkham and was currently on the loose, with Batman and Robin turning up just in time to stop many of the minor criminals from getting loose. Many of the criminals that were captured before their escape had been moved to Blackgate Penitentiary for the forseeable future, with the short amount of staff had that not been seriously hurt being transferred over there until the work on the Asylum had been finished. Harley had not been included in the list due to the hospital's diagnosis of possible mental trauma from the assault, including the effects of amnesia, short-term memory loss and many other non-serious complications.

This diagnosis also managed to get Harley off of the investigation for the possible co-conspirators for the Joker's escape. It was known that the Police, and most likely Batman and Robin, had been tracking The Joker's known henchman Jonny Frost, as well as Arkham Security guard Frank Boles for any possible connection to the Joker's escape from the Asylum, but had yet to turn up any decent evidence to support them. It was a miracle that Crispus Allen had not seen straight through her when he interviewed her a few days before she was released, but Harley knew that the main reason she was no longer viewed as a suspect was the reason that it was absurd to believe that the Joker would torture one of his own comrades during his escape.

But Harley thought that the police had overlooked a crucial step in their investigation, because Harley knew that it was the exact thing that the Joker had done. Harley wanted to believe it, to know that the Joker had only done the things he had done in order to protect her and make sure she was not involved in the investigation into his crimes whatsoever. She had been a simple pawn in his great machinations, but Harley was convinced that he hurt her to make sure she was not hurt in the long run of things.

Being brought home from the hospital, Harley was constantly asked the same question from her parents. They desperately wanted her to forsake the apartment she had in Gotham for a few weeks and come back to Bludhaven with them, but Harley persisted. She knew that being in Bludhaven was not where she wanted to be, she needed to be in Gotham. It was where she worked, it was where she lived. She was completely fine, she did not need her parents all over her every single moment of every day. Harley was her own woman now and she wished to be treated as one.

Realizing their argument was completely over, Harley's parents took her to where she wanted to be: her apartment. Helping her carry the things that had been brought with her to the apartment, including a lot of clothes and such. A lot of the things that she had in her office had been stolen, as well as a lot of the pictures on her wall being smashed by clumsy inmates looking for absolutely anything they could find.

Eventually, Harley found that she was finally alone and allowed to think for herself. She was finally on her own, able to do whatever she wanted without surveillance to watch her every movement or other patients to hear her inside their ward.

And the first Harley did was laugh.

She clapped her hands together and giggled like a schoolgirl, before taking a deep breath and smiling. She couldn't believe everything that had happened. She was finally free, she no longer had to fill out stupid paperwork or write down notes about every single sentence that came out of her puddin's mouth. She could finally be Harley Quinzel, free to cause trouble, wreak havoc and wear the clothes she wanted to wear. No more pathetic blouses, long skirts and high heels. All of that was gone.

She was a new person with a new life.

Things were going to be different now, a new chapter of her life had opened.

She had finally closed the door on the stupid, pathetic professional Harleen, shedding the skin she had worn as a disguise for many months.

She could finally be who she was meant to be.

And she loved every single minute of it.


	16. A New Harley Quinzel

Over the few weeks following her release from the hospital, Harley found that she had subconsciously changed a lot of things she did during the day. Due to the fact that she no longer needed to spend her time researching the Joker for the possible signs of whatever was wrong with him, especially now that Harley knew that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the Joker, and whether or not she could use his exploits and accomplishments against him. But now, no longer needing to do that, Harley found that a lot of her time was freed up and allowed to do a whole lot more.

Harley found that she went to the gym a whole lot more than she used to, spending most of the time hanging around out there, using the machines and watching a whole lot more of the muscular men that walked past on their gym trips. She also did a whole lot more gymnastics and acrobatics, somehow remembering a whole lot more about the expert stunts that she had no idea how to pull off a few weeks before. She also found that she was now eating a whole lot more healthily, cooking more and spending less time and money on waiting for takeaways. All of this turned her into some sort of gym freak, with her drinking more protein shakes and smoothies than she had ever managed to make and drink in her entire life.

This whole change in her routine caused her to feel a whole lot more better emotionally, physically and mentally. She a lot more stronger and fitter, more energetic and bouncy than usual. She felt as if she had been putting on a lot of muscle and was becoming more toned, but Harley knew that it would not show for her in a matter of weeks. Her mind became less focused on everything going on around the Asylum and such. She had been contacted a few times on the phone by Dr. Sharp, but Harley had made the decision to ignore them. She was on her time and she would not let some moody old psychiatrist ruin it by forcing her to come back to a workplace she no longer had any interest in. With everything that had happened there, Harley was too emotionally distraught to think about even stepping foot between the ornate wooden doors of the Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

Spending most of the money she spent on taxi fares and takeaways on going out into Gotham Central and shopping for new clothes, Harley felt like a whole new person. Throwing out or selling most of the old professional wear that she had worn repeatedly over the last six months, Harley found more pleasure and pride wearing low cut tops and jean shorts, as well as high leggings and converse. She had a particular taste in low-cut football, basketball and general sport tops, as well as varsity/letterman jackets. She had also started to a watch a lot more sports, even going as far as to buy a plain baseball bat that she decorated herself with her arts and crafts skills. She did a lot with it, painting things like stars and little insects and butterflies onto it, before she had the clever idea pop into her head about writing 'GOOD NIGHT' in big red bold letters down the length of the bat itself.

But more recently, Harley had begun to hear something. A voice, amidst the dark places of her thoughts. She had no idea who it was, but she knew that it sounded a lot like her own voice. It told her the deepest darkest desires that she had wanted, a voice in her head to be the best friend she had always wanted. It talked to her almost all the time, understanding all the problems that she had. It councilled her what she should and shouldn't do in situations. Harley could find herself sitting on her couch with nothing to do and find joy in talking with the voice inside her head until she had a clever idea or the craving to do something that the voice had told her to do. It represented all of Harley's dark emotions, it was the devil on her shoulder.

And it was her new best friend.

Her inhibitions had been lowered, allowing her to speak her mind a lot more freely than she had ever before. She was a bit more of a loudmouth than she had ever been in her entire life but no longer bothered her. She was perfectly sane and normal in her own mind, despite how it looked on the outside. The fact that she was slowly slipping away from rational thought was not dawning on her and it was true that it never would, becoming lost in her own mind each day after day.

One day, Harley had a knock on the door. Immediately jumping up, Harley ran up the small steps from her living room to her door and swung it open, becoming straight face-to-face with an old friend: Dr. Joan Leland.

"Joan!" Harley smiled. "Good to see you! How've you been?"

"Good, Harleen, good." Joan smiled.

"Actually, it's Harley now." Harley grinned and posed awkwardly, holding her head up with her hand below her chin.

"Really?" Leland raised her eyebrow. "You always said that you didn't like that name."

"Meh." Harley shrugged. "I changed my mind. Anyway, come in!"

With a extended gesture, Harley moved aside and allowed Joan to walk into her apartment. It was so odd seeing her, especially in her neck of the woods. The last time she had in fact seen Joan was a couple of days after the Arkham Incident, when she had finally been given the all-clear about her injuries as well. Joan wasn't exactly in the best frame of mind herself, having been in a session with the Mad Hatter during Joker's escape from captivity. Seeing his chance, Tetch managed to somehow hypnotize Joan into freeing him from his own bindings, before setting her to sit and rock forwards and backwards until the police came. It had really shaken her up. She had been treated at the hospital like every single one of Jervis Tetch's abductees, having to be coaxed out of the trance that Jervis had put her into before being treated for extreme PTSD.

Harley, however, found it quite amusing, despite how sinister and sadistic it was. The fact that she could in fact imagine the sight of a blank Joan Leland rocking back and forth on her office floor, eyes wide-open with no idea how to stop herself as she swayed her entire body, sat indian-style on the stone floor made her laugh at the top of her lungs. Harley wished that she could've been there to see it. She probably would've recorded it on her phone and put on the internet as a cruel joke.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Harley asked, walking towards her fridge. "I've got smoothies, fruit drinks, milk..."

"I'm good for now, thanks." Joan smiled.

"Okay, fair enough." Harley immediately closed the fridge door and skipped to join Joan on the sofa.

"So, how's your recovery been?" Joan asked.

"Good, yeah." Harley took a seat on her sofa. "I feel a lot better."

"You look it." Joan looked Harley up and down. "You seem fitter."

"Yep. The gym's being working wonders." Harley nodded.

"I bet." Joan looked around, trying her best not to meet eye contact with Harley. "It must take your mind off of everything that happened."

"Mhm." Harley nodded again. "Sometimes."

"You got the worst of it." Joan nodded. "And we all got beat up pretty badly."

"I don't know." Harley tried not to grin. "What happened to you was really messed up."

"Yeah..." Joan trailed off, closing her eyes.

"You okay?" Harley leaned over, clicking her fingers gently.

"What? Yeah!" Joan perked up. "Sorry, I just don't like thinking about it."

"I understand." Harley smiled. "How's Jeremiah? Have you seen him?"

"We've talked on the phone." Joan nodded. "He seems pretty traumatized. He kept asking me how I was and how sorry he was for everything that happened."

"Right." Harley bit her bottom lip.

"Has he spoken to you at all?" Joan raised her eyebrow.

"No." Harley folded her arms. "But to be honest, I don't want him to."

"Why not?" Joan continued to become more and more curious.

"I don't know how to feel about working at Arkham now, if I'm honest." Harley sighed. "It just doesn't feel the same working there with a new boss."

"Plus everything that you went through." Joan nodded. "The horrors that man put you through. To do such a sadistic thing as to use the ETC against you..."

"Yep." Harley quickly answered, looking around herself.

"If I can ask..." Joan raised an eyebrow. "What was it like?"

"It burned." Harley nodded. "Like, total searing white pain. I couldn't believe it. I had to focus on something, a happy memory to make sure I didn't die."

"What did you focus on?" Joan folded her arms.

"I..." Harley trailed off. She did not want to tell her that she focused on her time with the Joker, that would just scare her. "I can't remember."

"Yeah," Joan sat forwards. "The doctors said that you'd possibly have amnesia."

"What about you?" Harley asked. "I know it's tough, but what was yours like?"

"Strange, really strange." Joan sighed. "One minute I was sat there, asking him about why he liked the book so much, and the next thing I know I'm agreeing with every single thing he's telling me to do. I had no control, everything he said was the absolute gospel truth. He just told me to do something and I obeyed like a damn dog."

Harley could tell that she was becoming more and more flustered and angry.

"What about Dr. Elliot?" Harley perked up.

"What about him?" Joan raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't he have a bad time of it?" Harley folded her arms.

"Jesus, yes." Joan scoffed. "Thrown through his surgery window by Warren White. The Great White Shark is not one to be messed with."

"How is he?" Harley sat forwards.

"In a bad way." Joan pursed her lips. "He has multiple fragments of glass and scar tissues all across his face. And Tommy always loved his looks. He'll probably keep them all bandaged, poor guy."

"Where are you working now?"

"At Blackgate, with actual people." Joan smiled. "We're not all like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harley frowned.

"Sorry Harley, I was just joking." Joan looked a little defensive. "I'm just saying that a lot of us got off lightly. You were basically tortured to the brink of death."

"Pfft." Harley waved her hands in a comical fashion. "That's a little melodramatic."

"Harleen..."

"Harley." With a stern voice, Harley corrected her.

"Sorry, Harley." Joan nodded. "Are you sure that you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harley chuckled. "Why do you ask?"

"You just seem a little different." Joan continued. "A little stranger than usual."

"I'm still me." Harley sighed. "Just trying to make the most of a bad situation."

"Yeah, I get you, hun." Joan smiled. "I guess we all are."

The two spoke for the next couple of hours before Joan left to go do some shopping, leaving Harley alone in her apartment once again.

She didn't do much for the rest of the night, just watching television until the dark hours of the day. By the time she was bored of the TV, Harley was already ready for sleep.

However, something strange started to happen when she started to get ready. Walking into her bedroom to get changed into her nightwear, the lights in her house started to flicker. All of them. She had never had any problem with any of them before, especially since they were long-lasting bulbs. After a few times of repeatedly doing it, Harley frowned and walked down the steps towards her television.

She then moved towards her lights switch and flicked it off, before waiting a few seconds and turning them back on.

What Harley saw next made her body go cold.

Stood across the room from her, directly near the sliding glass door to her balcony...

Was the Batman.


	17. The Dark Knight of Gotham City

The Dark Knight, the one man reign of terror in Gotham City, stood before her, glaring at her through the cowl. His form was bulkier and muscular than it could ever be portrayed on a newspaper, his shoulder muscles alone almost bigger than her head. He wore a grey bodysuit with a large black bat on the chest, with a black cowl with small pointed ears, mimicking a bat's head. His utility belt hung from around his waist, carrying multiple bags and pellets for all sorts of different things. His outfit was finished off by the drooping black leather cape that hung from his shoulders, dropping onto Harley's laminated wooden floor and lying flat across it. There was no visible part of him that looked human, no flesh showing. His eyes beamed white, like shining fog lamps amidst the darkness. Harley could feel herself tremble in his presence.

With his shadow spread across the room, enhanced by the moonlight that shone through the glass from the balcony, the Batman looked imposing and deadly. Even though he was halfway across the room from her, Harley still felt intimidated by the presence of a man like him. She stared at him, unsure on what to do and how to feel. Should she scream and ran away? Or stand her ground and interrogate him for answers? A lot of feelings rushed around in her head, making her unaware of the dangerous situation that she actually found herself in. There was no telling exactly what the Batman wanted from Harley, no indications as to his motives or his reasoning for appearing before her as he did.

The Batman did not say anything, but took a step forwards. To counteract his terrifying movements, Harley simply took a step back, placing the heel of her left foot on the bottom step of the small stairs that led to the upper part of her apartment. The Batman simply turned his head and reached for his face, before grasping at the area that should've been where his mouth was. Grasping at the edges of his mask, Batman pulled away and brought some of the mask with it, removing the rebreather that seemed to flawlessly and simply connect to his mask.

"I've been looking for you, Harleen." The Batman growled, his voice altered so that his voice was recognizable. Harley found that it simply made him more and more intimidating. "You've been very busy lately."

Harley didn't respond. In fact, she found it quite strange. The Batman, a major force for change in Gotham City and the man renowned for putting many of Gotham's most notorious behind bars was stood in her lounge and was trying to make small talk with her. She found it incredibly strange and quite shocking to hear.

"Why are you here, freak?" Harley sneered. "You want to chat or something?"

"Don't be smart, Dr. Quinzel." Batman replied, staring at her with his cold, white eyes. There was nothing behind them, a creepy illusion that sent fear down Harley's spine. "You know exactly why I'm here."

Batman proceeded to take a step forwards, which in turn made Harley flinch. She nearly jumped out of her skin as he continued to walk forwards towards her in a slow but menacing fashion. He did not seem to be the type of person that wanted to play games on this particular cold evening in Gotham City: his city. Harley, in an act of self-defense, ran up her stairs and into her bedroom, where her special customized baseball bat was lying. Picking it up, she ran back out to find him stood exactly where she had last seen him, holding the bat in the most threatening way she could as she stared at him, the anger and the venom evident in her gaze.

"Stay away from me!" She screamed. "I will hit you, I don't want to but I will!"

"Dr. Quinzel." The Batman spoke in a menacing fashion . "We need to talk."

"About what?!" Harley continued to scream, holding tightly onto her bat.

"About your patient." Batman growled. "The one that calls himself the Joker."

"What about him?" Harley growled back.

"Where is he?" Moving forwards up the stairs, he furrowed his brow under his cowl.

"How should I know?" Harley moved back, slightly swinging her bat in his direction in an effort to get him to stop or slow down.

"Don't play dumb with me, Dr. Quinzel." Batman slammed his right hand against the wall. "You might have been able to fool the police, but you won't fool me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Harley screamed, moving as far away from Batman as she could.

"Where is the Joker?!" Batman continued to walk towards her, never getting as far as to be able to touch her. "I know you know where he is."

"You're wrong!" Harley squealed, moving further and further towards the front door. "I haven't seen him since he escaped, I promise!"

"You're lying, Quinzel." Batman snarled.

"I'm not!" Harley yelled back.

Backing up against the door, Harley found that she had nowhere else to go. Reaching desperately for the handle, she turned it and tried to open the door. As it creaked open, however, a metal batarang connected with the wood and slammed it shut.

"Don't test me, Dr. Quinzel." Batman's voice was automated, masking his identity from Harley. He continued to move towards her, forcing Harley to circle around him. "I know that you helped Joker escape from Arkham."

"Why in the hell would I do that?!" Harley held her hands out. "In case you haven't noticed, Arkham's for the CRIMINALLY INSANE."

"I've seen the footage, Quinzel." Batman growled. "Joker enters your office with a straitjacket on but leaves without it. Coincedence?"

"Why would I release a deranged psychopath from his straitjacket?" Harley swung the bat in his direction. "You're about as insane as him!"

"We both know what he's like, Harleen!" Batman jumped backwards, dodging the shaft of the wooden bat. "He's manipulative! He coerced you into doing it!"

"I don't remember!" Harley screamed. "In case you don't know already, he shocked my damn brains out with an ETC machine!"

"That excuse may have fooled the police, but it won't fool me." Batman surged forward, knocking the bat from Harley's hand. "I know he did it on purpose. I know the way he works, he did it to make sure you didn't have any connection with him!"

"You're crazy!" Harley yelled, jumping backwards in shock at how quick Batman had been to take the bat from her hand.

Batman simply sprinted forwards and grabbed Harley by the back of her collar, before slamming her against the wall and lifting her up from the ground.

"My patience is growing thin, Quinzel." Batman got so close to her face that it seemed that their chins were touching. "Tell me exactly what I want to know."

Harley squealed. She moved her face to the side and tried her best not to burst into floods of tears. She could feel her body shaking, her hands and knees trembling with the pure fear that was being sent down her entire body. He was one of the most threatening individuals that Harley had ever met, surpassing even the most dangerous criminals that had been there during her time at Arkham. He had come with one mission in mind, to interrogate her for the Joker's whereabouts, and was determined to get the answer that he wanted from her.

"He didn't tell me anything, I swear!" Harley cried out, squealing like a child. "I haven't seen him in weeks! Not since his escape. You have to believe me!"

"Bullshit." Batman slammed his left hand right beside her face, his palm connecting with the wall in an explosion of noise. "He didn't mention anything at all?"

"No, nothing!" Harley squealed. "Mister J...Joker, we didn't talk about things like that."

"Then what did you talk about?" Batman's voice became more and more menacing, his anger levels rising with every passing minute. "Talk. Now, Quinzel."

"He told me what you did to him." Harley looked directly into the cold, dead lights that inhabited the cowl of the Batman, squinting as his head rose.

Suddenly, without warning or reason, Batman pushed Harley down towards her lounge, her head barely missing the bottom step of the stairs. He stood at the top of them, glaring down at her from the darkness, like a villain from a horror movie.

"What did he say?" Batman growled. "What did he say, Harleen?!"

"He told me about the Chemicals." Harley smiled, curling up into a ball on the floor. "About how you watched him fall."

"Impossible..." Batman grew in stature, hunching his shoulders. "You're lying. How the hell do you know about all of this?!"

"Because he told me. Mister J spilled it all." Harley giggled, holding her fingers near her mouth. "And now you know it as well. You know the truth."

"WHERE IS HE?!" Batman leaped down the stairs and walked directly over to Quinzel, grabbing her by her collar and lifting her into the air. "WHERE IS THE JOKER?!"

"Everywhere and nowhere." Harley continued to giggle. "Exactly where you want him. Take a guess, Batsy, because I have no idea."

"Stop playing games!" Batman looked as if he could crush Harley's head with his fist.

"You ruined him. You destroyed his life." Harley gloated. "You turned him into the sadistic clown he is today. It's all your fault. All the lives he's taken, the people he's hurt. The families that he's..."

"Enough!" Batman dropped her. "Enough of this. You know more than you should."

Batman moved away from her, heading towards the door. He picked up his rebreather and stood by the glass door to her balcony, looking out at the city in front of him. He nodded and snapped his head to the side, glaring at Harley with more anger and ferocious aggression that could be humanly portrayed. "I will find the Joker. Mark my words, and then I'm coming for you. You need help, Harleen. You need help before he comes to find you. I hope that I find him before he finds you, because you're walking a fine line, and any minute I feel that you could tip over the wrong side."

"You feel whatever you want to feel, know what you want to know." Harley smiled. "But you can't accept the fact that you're wrong. There's nothing wrong with me."

Without another word, Harley watched as the Batman fitted his rebreather back on to his mask and ran out of the lounge, diving over the balcony in spectacular fashion. Harley turned around and watched him move from afar, having heard the sound of his cape catching on the wind. He was leaving her alone in her apartment to recollect on what had just happened, to learn what happened to the people that . Her first experience, one-on-one with the Caped Crusader, and Harley had lived to tell the tale about it. She couldn't believe it. It was too shocking to believe. She pushed herself backwards and placed the back of her head against the wall, her hair messed up and hanging down her face. She simply looked up at the ceiling and proceeded to laugh, gasping for air as she realized that she had managed to defeat the Batman.

Mister J would be so proud of her.

And so she sat there, laughing and chuckling until she ran out of breath, before she collapsed onto her side and continued to laugh, giggling uncontrollably for what seemed like forever.

She had won.

She had beaten the Batman.


	18. Mad Love

**Hey, you lovely people on the internet! This is it, the chapter that I think a lot of you have been waiting for. Thank you to all the people that have followed, favourited this story and left a review, it's all greatly appreciated. You've all blown my expectations out of the park with the support you've given me, I can't believe it and I can do nothing but extend my heartfelt gratitude towards it. I hope that I am doing your support justice, because it makes my day to know that you all are enjoying the work that I put out for you all to read.**

 **But enough of my rambling! You want to see another chapter!**

 **Here we go! :D**

* * *

Harley's whole run in with the Batman felt like something from a nightmare. She knew that it was real, the light bruises on her shoulders proved as much. He had shown her what it meant to scare someone, how an expert interrogator handled a situation. Despite the fact that he had left his fury and his shock at Harley's discovery of the Joker's origin overwhelm him, Harley knew now that the Batman was one of the most feared people in Gotham City for a reason. He was feared for his appearance and his intimidation tactics, the glearing white eyes, the toned body and the hulking mass that he was, all of it showed off how much of a terrifying creature of the night could be.

The Batman could be a force for change in the world, Harley could see that. The feeling of pure fear that had been sent through her body when he had appeared in her apartment, the moonlight sprawling the shape of a bat across her floor as a terrifying symbol of what she was faced with. Harley now knew the fear that the inmates at Arkham spoke of when they mentioned the Batman, the gruelling terror that her conjured inside of them made him one of the more formidable foes.

Trying her best to forget the experience, Harley spent most of her day either in bed or on her laptop, trying her best to rid her mind of the Batman. She wanted nothing to do with his interrogation tactics and his threats, his promises and his wishes. She was her own woman and she would let herself be rendered to cowering in a corner every time that a shadow passes past her light. Harley remembered that she would have been like that once, alone, afraid and wondering what exactly would happen next.

No more.

She would not allow herself to be afraid of the damn Bat-freak and his stupid sidekick. If they wanted to come and interrogate her more about the whereabouts of her Mister J, especially when she also had no idea where he was, they were welcome to it. She was ready and waiting for them, prepared for whatever tactics they were going to cook up to use against her. All of the primary tactics had failed against her, the pure anger and frustration, the physical violence and everything else that Batman had tried to use to strangle the answers he wanted from Harley had failed, so now she was expecting them to throw everything except the book at her in an effort to get what they wanted.

Shaking off whatever emotions or feelings she had towards the Caped Crusader and his pathetic friend, Harley continued to spend most of her day in her apartment, doing odd jobs such as cleaning, making herself some lunch and messing around with some files on her laptop, including making sure she deleted some of the files from Arkham Asylum that were definitely no longer needed, including many of the news reports on the Joker's exploits that she had downloaded from multiple sites on the internet. She had felt the need to get changed, however, and quickly thrown on a blue button-up shirt, some skinny black pants and some brown high-ankled boots. She thought the outfit went well with her messy blonde hair, despite the fact that she would be doing nothing but wasting a good outfit that she easily could've worn another day.

As the day was beginning to die down, with Harley having done everything that she wanted to accomplish for the day, she simply found that she had nothing on her mind but to sit down and watch television. She had tired herself out to the point where nothing seemed as fun and entertaining as simply sitting down, relaxing and watching a bit of television in the hope that one of her favourite programs would be on there for her to watch and delight in. Making herself some food out of a simple microwave meal that she had bought randomly for the hell of it, Harley did exactly what she wanted to, sitting down playfully on the couch with a cushion between her crossed legs, ready to eat while she watched.

What she found when she switched the TV on was completely unexpected.

The screen flickered to life and started on the main news channel for the area, which showed a news reporter talking about a certain subject that Harley did not care about. As she went to grab for the remote, however, the reporter's face became dire as he pressed the earpiece he had in, obviously getting word about something. Quickly, the programme changed to a live camera feed, where a cameraman quickly ran towards the scene of what was obviously a crime. She had seen the place where it was all happening before, not far from her apartment complex and down a few roads which she had passed on a daily basis on her way to Arkham.

It was called Oswald's. From what Harley had heard it was a lovely seafood restaurant owned by a man who the shop was obviously named after. Apparently it served some of the best fish that was available in Gotham and trounced the local competition for similar food chains by a country mile. Nobody had ever seen the man named 'Oswald' but it was well-known that he operated many different businesses across Gotham, with his food chain not being one of his priorities.

As the cameraman got closer, Harley could see that Oswald's had been ravaged. The window were cracked and full of bulletholes, the glass now barely translucent with white cracks and marks all across it. It looked as if something incredibly strong had been thrown against it, but the added bullet marks disputed that fact. Moving forwards, the cameraman immediately stopped and moved to the side, hiding down an alley as a lot of hooded men converged around the restaurant from all angles. Holding weaponry of all kind, including rifles, bats and even things like chains and padlocks, they began to smash at the walls and the doors of the shop. Harley could make out from the footage that they were all wearing what looked like clown masks under their hoods.

Eventually, a car drove up the street from the shadows, recklessly swerving all over the road in a chaotic fashion and leaving multiple tire tracks in its wake. Stopping abruptly outside of the restaurant, the car beeped it's horn multiple times. It was a peculiar car, unlike Harley had ever seen before. It was obviously custom-made, with the chassis and the wheels of the car looking rather unique and exotic. It was made in the form of a high-end sports car, with the entire body a strange purple-pinkish colour that was accented down the bonnet and the doors with gold lines. The wheels were metal but also rimmed with gold. The entire car lit up underneath, a blueish-white tint that rolled around underneath in a spectacular fashion.

Harley watched with anticipation as the car of the door slowly opened, revealing a man that would make Harley's jaw drop.

The neon green hair.

The chalk white skin.

The blood red lips.

It was everything that she had dreamed of.

Voicing his sinister cackle for the world to hear, the Joker jumped onto the bonnet of his car and fired up into the air with a round of bullets from his pistol. Dressed in a greyish-silver blazer that was accented with pure black, a half-buttoned up crimson shirt and black suit pants, including black ankle boots that looked as it they had a smile stitched into them above the toes, the Joker looked exactly like an exotic catwalk model would, at least in Harley's eyes. He then proceeded to jump down and fire into Oswald's through the front door itself, shattering the glass of the door completely. All of this noise and chaos riled all of the raiders up, causing all of his men to converge and enter the restaurant through the windows as they made their raid on the place, before the camera feed cut once serious shooting began.

Harley could not believe what she had seen. Jumping up from her sofa and spilling the contents of her microwave meal all over the floor. This was it, the exact thing that she had been waiting for. The Joker had finally made his move, he'd made an appearance and it was up to Harley to go and find him. Making her own move, Harley grabbed her phone from the coffee table in front of her and hastily typed in the location for Oswald's and how to get there in the quickest time.

Realizing that she couldn't exactly run there, Harley looked out of her window to the street below. Luckily for her, some poor fool had ordered a takeaway, which in turn had allowed the takeaway guy to come on a motorcycle. Smiling evilly, Harley didn't need to make the decision, because the voice made the decision in her head instead. Rushing out of her apartment without a second thought, not even stopping to lock the door behind her, Harley ran down the staircase and down to ground level, finding the delivery guy hastily bringing pizzas out of the bag on the back of his motorcycle. She also noticed that the poor fool had left his keys in the ignition.

Walking up to him with a cheeky grin on her face, Harley smiled and tapped him on the shoulder. The boy couldn't have been more than nineteen and looked as if he had never had a girlfriend or even touched a girl in his entire life. Harley pitied him.

"Hi." Harley grinned. "I like you."

"Huh?" The delivery guy stuttered "...I...I..."

Without warning, Harley sighed and grabbed hold of his head, before planting a long kiss directly onto his lips. The look on the delivery guy's face was that of pure shock, before he simply closed his eyes and went along with it. Harley pulled away after a few seconds, breathing heavily and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Thanks for that." Harley smiled. "Can I borrow your bike?"

"Erm..." the delivery guy stuttered again.

Taking it as a yes, Harley smiled. "Thanks. You're cute."

Without being able to let him answer, Harley jumped onto his motorcycle and turned the key, revving it into action and spinning it around on it's back wheel. She had drove a motorcycle before in her college days, a spur of the moment thing in her mind. Harley never knew when it would come in handy, but she was glad that she knew now.

Moving quickly down the road, breaking countless laws on the way towards her goal, Harley tried her best to remember the way to the restaurant. After making countless wrong turns, Harley eventually found the road that she had seen on the camera feed.

Luckily, she was just in time.

Watching as the Joker came out of Oswald's at a distance, Harley revved up the motorcycle and waited for him to get into the car. She smiled as he pocketed his pistol within his coat jacket and opened the door. She wanted to go and get him now, but the rational part of her brain convinced her that she did not want to be seen snogging a criminal at the scene of his crime, that would be both stupid and crazy. Instead, and much to her heart's dismay, Harley waited until his door was shut, before slowly moving the bike forwards.

Unexpectedly, Joker's car roared into action and sped off down the road, forcing Harley to kick her motorcycle into gear and take off after him, traversing the long roads of Gotham City in order to keep up with her puddin'. After a few minutes of chasing, dodging cars and driving on the pavement for a few seconds at a time, Harley finally managed to catch up with his car on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere in particular in Gotham. The Joker started to slow his car down, forcing Harley to jump off of the bike and send it careening into the back of his vehicle. Acrobatically landing on her feet, Harley felt the anger roar up inside of her as she approached his car from th side.

Slamming her hands on his bonnet, she watched as he slammed his head against the driver's side window in dismay. Repeatedly doing it, she wanted to see what he would do in response to her. When she realized that he was simply sat there, watching her in interest and curious abandon, she started to scream.

"Get out here!" She curled her hands into fists and clubbed his bonnet. "Get out of the damn car, you absolute maniac!"

Although she was muffled by his windows, Harley could tell that he had heard her. With what looked to be a groan, Joker leaned over and opened his car door. Harley then walked around to face him as he quickly jumped out of the car, staring directly into her eyes with the same look of curiosity.

"Why are you here, Quinzel?" Joker sneered. "What sort of crazed fool do you think you are? I want nothing to do with you, you've served your purpose!"

"You ruined me!" Harley screamed. "I'm a mess because of you!"

"Oh? Oh, really?" Joker widened his eyes, holding his hands outstretched with a twisted smile on his face. "Then that's what this is about? You want revenge?! Huh?"

"Yes!" Harley yelled. "Yes, I do! I want this to end! The memories I have you! I can't stop thinking about you! You drive me insane!"

"Oh, this is rich!" Joker clapped his hands together and walked in a circle, a his mouth wide as he barely contained his laughter. "Did I shock you for too long? Did the pain make you go cuckoo, Quinzel? Is that it?"

At this point, a large truck came stopping to a halt behind Joker's car. It was a large gas tanker, with a very angry driver. Harley looked over Joker's shoulder with raised eyebrows as the man honked his horn multiple times, before beginning to undo his seatbelt. It was obvious that the pair of them were an obstructing force in the way of the traffic as they screamed at each other without any viable sign of them beginning to stop, but it was a sure thing that nobody could move them. Determined anyhow, Harley watched as the driver of the truck exited his rig and walked towards them.

"Ooh, would you look at this." Joker whisperes. "We have an onlooker."

Dressed in a brown cowboy hat, a dirty white-and-red plaid shirt with a white vest underneath and some plain blue jeans, he walked towards them quickly without any sign of stopping.

"Can you two lovebirds get a room?!" The man yelled. "You're blocking the damn road with these stupid antics of yours!"

Without warning, the Joker turned his head, before his body followed suit. In shock, Harley reached forwards, grabbing the Joker on the inside of his jacket. She looked directly at him, his metal teeth glistening in the lenses of her thick-rimmed glasses, before reaching in and taking his pistol from where he had placed it. She looked up at and aimed it at the truck driver, visibly shaking as she glared at him.

"Hey, whoa." The driver stuck his hands up. "It's all cool..."

Harley wasn't listening. She was determined to prove her point, to show the Joker that she wasn't worthless like he thought she was. She would be his girl, no matter the cost, and she was determined to prove it to him

Without warning, she fired a shot.

The bullet struck the truck driver directly in the head, snapping his head back and sending his overweight carcass straight down to the floor. He lay there, twitching for a few seconds, before his eyes glazed over and the life left them.

"Ha! Haha! Hahaha!" The Joker erupted into a fit of laughter, his arms outstretched in shock as he looked down at the body before looking back up at Harleen. "That was fantastic! Right between the eyes! You're cold, Harleen! Stone cold!"

Harley was still shaking. She couldn't believe what she had just done. Without warning or a second act of remorse, she had pulled the trigger and ended the life of another human being. She did not know what she was doing, but she knew exactly well that it felt so good to do it. The rush of euphoria that filled her body as she held the gun, felt it pull back and watched the bullet connect with his head was unexplanable. She was turning into a monster, she could tell.

And it was all because of him.

Harley did not answer him, but instead turned the gun towards his forehead.

"Oh..." Joker smiled. "Now the plot thickens."

With a smile, Joker waited. To prove her point, Harley rested the gun barrel against the middle of his forehead, scratching the trigger with her nail.

"Can you really do it, Harleen?" Joker grinned. "After everything we've done."

"My name isn't Harleen." She spoke, her face blank. "It's Harley."

"Oh?" Joker's face changed to one of curiosity. "And who is this, 'Harley'?"

"The monster that you created." Harley gritted her teeth.

"Then come on, Frankenstein." Joker laughed. "End it."

Joker hung his arms limp and rested his forehead on the gun, before kickstarting himself back to life and holding the ends of his blazer. He opened it and showed her his chest, before releasing it back to hanging normally.

"Come on, Harley!" Joker beckoned her with his fingers. "I want you to do it! Pull the trigger! End it! Blow me away! I want you to put me down like the dog I am!"

"I..." Harley spoke, her eyes widening. "I...can't..."

With a dramatic laugh, Joker slammed his hands together to shock her, before he somehow managed to swipe the gun from Harley's hand. She had felt her hand loosen on the grip, but the fact that he had somehow managed to grab the barrel and lift it from her at lightning speed was terrifying.

"Well then," Joker nodded. "I guess I'll do it then."

Without a second blink, the Joker pressed the gun against his right temple. He hung his face low, in sorrow, as he traced his fingertip over the trigger.

"All it would take is one pull." Joker mused. "One snap and I'm gone."

As he looked as if he was about to pull it, Harley reached out.

"No!" She yelled.

With a laugh, Joker closed his eyes. Then, without warning, he shot his eyes widen open and glared at her. "BANG!"

Harley flinched and took a step back, allowing Joker to pocket his gun once again. He smiled at her and moved to touch her face with his left hand, before recoiling it and slapping her across it without mercy. Harley felt the impact and followed it, tumbling to the floor. She felt her glasses leave her face and land next to her, smashing on the bonnet of the car that her head narrowly missed.

The Joker simply looked ahead and ran the hand he struck her with through his hair, before kneeling down and folding his arms.

"I guess you didn't have the guts." Joker grinned. "I thought that you wanted me dead."

"I thought I did." Harley sighed, climbing onto her knees. "But now I don't."

"What do you feel?" Joker mused.

"I...don't know." Harley looked around, before her eyes rested on his. "I...think that you complete me. I can't function without you. You're my existance."

Joker stood up. He had not expected this.

He looked around, before turning his head back.

"What did you say?" Joker's face darkened.

"I...I think..." Harley looked back at him. "I think you're my existance, Mr. J."

Joker thought for a moment, before looking into his car and smiling. Turning back to Harley, he held his hand out. "Come on."

Harley took up, standing upright. She grabbed her glasses and put them back on, the left lense slightly out of place but everything else remarkably intact.

"Get in the car." Joker ordered.

"Why?" Harley raised her eyebrow.

"We're going somewhere." Joker growled. "Somewhere important to me."

"Where, Mr. J?" Harley opened the passenger side door.

Joker simply grinned back at her.

"Where it all began."


	19. Harley Quinn Reborn

Throughout the entire journey to wherever Joker was taking Harley, the pair of them sat in complete silence. There was an atmosphere in the car, a tension that was so thick that it could only be cut through with the sharpest of knives. There was no radio, no music to split the difference between them, just Joker, Harley and the noise of passing cars as Joker sped past them. She could tell that Joker did not want to talk to her under any circumstances, he had done his ordering and had said what needed to be said when he had first opened his car door. Harley had grown accustomed to it all, she knew that she would not be heard if she opened her mouth to talk. He would simply ignore her and continue facing forwards, one hand on the steering wheel as he dodged through traffic and ran multiple red lights on the way towards whatever destination he planned to take her to.

Looking around the inside of the Joker's car, Harley found that it was as expensive and richly-tasted as the outside. The seats were pearlescent white, a stark contrast to the blackness of the night that surrounded them as they drove. It was obvious that this was Joker's personal vehicle and not a simple sports car that he had boosted from some random person when he was in need of a ride. No, this car had a certain eloquence about it, a rugged beauty that could only be reflected by a man like the Joker. The entire of the inside had been lined in the colour of gold, from the steering wheel to the gear-stick itself. It was one of the fanciest cars that Harley had ever sat in, but she knew that only the best could please her Mr. J.

The further and further that they drove, the more Harley began to look out of her window. She was being taken to somewhere she had never even dreamed of going, a shady industrial area that looked like it could only be found by people who wanted to find it. It was typical of a criminal mob boss to take her to a place that would probably be notorious for the amount of gang and gun crime that happened around it. Harley knew that she was protected, that he would not let any harm come to her that wasn't inflicted by him or on his orders, but the entire situation still made her feel uneasy. The rational part of her mind loathed the idea of sitting in the car with the world's most psychotic and dangerous criminal, but the insanity and the voice drowned it out.

Eventually, the Joker turned the car right into an old, abandoned parking lot amidst lots of pylons on buildings. It looked as if the place had been abandoned for centuries, looked after by absolutely no-one. A relic of a Gotham long past. Harley had never seen anything so run-down. It was true to many that Gotham was a failing city, one that had been corrupted in it's core for too long and was now slowly starting to erode, starting to fade away and decay into nothing. Soon there would be no law and order, just rival gangs climbing a ladder for control.

Parking up in the middle of what should have been a parking lot, the Joker turned his head towards Harley and seemed to scan her for something, thinking inside his deranged mind whilst obviously looking for something that he was interested in. After about a minute, Joker growled under his breath and turned away, grabbing the door and opening it, allowing himself to get out of the car. A confused look on her face, Harley watched as Joker outstretched his hands and stretched far, before moving his hands to run them through his hair while breathing out audibly. Shaking her head with a slight smirk on her face, Harley got out of the car and walked over to him.

"Where are we?" Harley asked, looking around at the run-down buildings and electricity pylons that stood tall in the night. "I've never seen this part of Gotham before."

"That's because you can't." Joker grinned. "Only those who know where to look can find this part of Gotham. This is the gangster's paradise, my dear."

With a beckoning wave, Joker began to walk towards one of the particular buildings near them. Harley watched the large building loom over her as they walked closer, the large towering structure towering above her, watching her, scanning her. She felt as if millions of eyes had fallen upon her, making the assumptions on her and what she was like as she walked. Harley would not have been surprised if a homeless wanderer, something that she had now realized was a normal sight in Gotham, assaulted them with a mixture of grabbing, yelling and general disorderly conduct in an effort to get the slightest sliver of change for him to survive.

It was pitiful.

Walking up the steel stairs that made up the fire exit of this particular building, the Joker did not stop to wait for her. He began to move quicker and quicker, as if he was more anxious to do something. Harley tried her best to keep up with him, but his quickened pace was almost of a superhuman fashion. By the time that she had reached the last step, her puddin' had already reached the fire door to the building and was frantically trying to push the door open from the outside.

"Disgraceful." Harley heard Joker call out, growling a little under his breath as he examined the door up and down with his icy, cold gaze. "Obviously someone has gone in and closed the door in the most stupidest of ways...why do I hire such morons..."

By the time that Harley had reached him, he was now frantically kicking at the door in a frenzy to get it open. Harley simply frowned, folded her arms and walked towards him.

"It's a fire door." Harley chuckled. "They open from the inside."

Joker simply stared at her.

"This building's fire doors were changed long ago." Joker grinned. "It was shut down for being a safety hazard."

"How the hell do you know that?" Harley raised an eyebrow.

"I have my secrets, Harley." Joker simply smiled.

Knowing now that his kicking would not help, Joker moved towards the door and put his shoulder against it, before pushing his weight onto it and slamming forwards, using enough power to push the door open with a quick snap. Joker simply smiled at Harley and dusted his hands off, before continuing into the building itself. Harley swiftly followed, feeling herself being overcome with a neon green light as they walked down the corridor and into the main area of the building.

Harley was shocked about where they were. Standing atop of a metal walkway about halfway across the width of the room, Harley looked down to see three rows of large vats of neon green liquid, which bubbling and popped beneath the pair of them. Joker smiled as he looked down, but Harley could sense that there was an underlying look of dread behind his icy eyes. He had been here before, she could just tell.

Then it dawned on her.

This is where it happened.

This was his birthplace.

Her eyes widened, Harley turned her head and looked at the Joker, who simply turned and smiled at her, his teeth still glistening a little in the light. He simply looked at her and then turned away, walking down the walkway towards one of the large blocks, specifically walking towards the staircase that led to all of the different heights, all the way to the roof of the building.

Harley immediately and distinctively followed. She did not know why, but she felt as if she was compelled to follow him. He had not needed to say a word, but Harley knew in her heart that he wanted her to follow him. It was as if he had something to show her, something that she would enjoy.

"Where are we, Mr. J?" Harley asked, inquisitively.

"This, my dear, is the ACE Chemicals plant." Joker smiled. "A gangster's paradise."

"What do you mean by that?" Harley continued to ask.

"These vats are filled with all sorts of chemicals, with so many chemical reactions taking place all the time." Joker smiled, looking down once more. "Even I don't even know what happens down there, but it sure makes a good hiding place for a troublemaker who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."

Continuing to follow, Harley watched the vats get smaller and smaller as they climbed the levels of the staircase. She felt herself moving further and further away from her humanity as she passed every turn on the spiral staircase, losing more and more of who she was, her humanity slipping away before her very eyes. She didn't like it, but she knew that she could not control it. This was her destiny, and she had to face it.

Eventually, the two of them reached a high level. Harley knew that it was high, but she did not know how high they had actually gone. They had not reached the last level of the staircase, but it had felt like they had been going forever. Clearing her mind of it for the time being, Harley watched as the Joker opened a door and walked into the nearest room, before looking out at the emptiness in front of them.

"Go ahead." He smiled. "Go take a look."

Folding his arms, Joker leaned on the wall as Harley nodded and slowly walked towards the edge of the room they were in. There was a wall that was completely missing, as if it had been purposely knocked out by some sort of explosion or demolition to make room for an awe-inspiring view ahead. Harley looked around at all of the blinking white lights amidst the green hue of the bottom of the room, the whole building holding a dark and grungy feel to it as she looked around. Eventually, Harley's eyes were drawn to the bubbling vats of chemicals below. They were so strange, almost as if they had been purposely mixed together. They frothed at the edges and bubbles popped all around, but Harley was not scared of them. In fact, she felt her feet move closer towards the edge that she standing before. Something about her had made her more fearless, she would have once been scared to go anywhere near this but no longer.

Taking in a deep breath, Harley continued to look down. She could not take her eyes from the vats. They were equisite, electrifying. This stuff could change someone, melt the skin of their bones, transform them into monsters or perhaps even make a madman out of a traumatized man that had been hunted by a bat. Harley wondered what would happen to her if she was to jump down, whether or not she would die and be dissolved into nothing by the chemicals below. She had to drag herself out of the thought of jumping, breathing heavily once again and snapping her head up straight. She was directly under one of the vats. One mis-step and she would fall straight in, no chance to miss and hit the floor beneath.

"Tempting, isn't it?" Joker called from behind. "The idea of falling in there. Leaving the world you know up here and leaving your life in the hands of fate."

"What do you know about fate?" Harley called back, not looking at him.

"A great many things, Harley, my dear." Joker cooed, standing up straight. "I know that fate can be a very cruel mistress. I believe that everyone has a destiny in life, but I believe that you can also change that destiny."

Joker moved forwards. "Take me, for example. I was once a poor schmuck with a dead end job who turned to comedy for a way of life. I was run down on my luck and had no way of making a living. But fate had other plans for me. I fell into there and now I am the King of Gotham City. Nothing sweeps under my nose. I make whatever I want, whenever I want. If I want a new suit, I will take it. I own Gotham, the mayor is my puppet to play with."

"What's your point, J?" Harley turned her head, her face shadowed by the grungy atmosphere.

"There's something about you." Joker folded his arms once more. "I noticed it from the day I was brought into the madhouse. You were different, I saw it in your eyes. A wild animal caged by the rules of society and order, wanting to break free. A little dose of electricity and I set that animal free, and now it runs to the one who saved it."

Harley did not answer. Instead, she continued to look ahead. Her mind swirled with the thoughts he had been planting in her head. She was hopelessly in love with the man who stood behind her, she was addicted to everything about him, and yet she did not know why. He had opened her eyes to real world, allowed her to break free of the chains that society had cast on her. Everything that he had said was true.

"So, I have a question." Joker smiled. "If you will."

Turning around, Harley stared at him.

"Would you die for me?" Joker looked down at her.

"Yes." Harley answered immediately. There was no tone to her voice, a blank face.

Joker immediately growled and shook his head, before looking around, his mouth slightly open as he hung on his last word. "No, that's too easy for you."

"Would you..." Joker sighed, before his eyes widened and he moved his head in a tilted fashion. "Would you live for me?"

Harley stared directly ahead, almost as if she was looking through him. Her head swirled with the continuous thoughts. He was asking for her to give herself to him. Was it true? Could she live for this man? Would she spend her eternity chasing after him for one more shot at something that they had shared at two sides of a table?

"Hm?" Joker titled his head in the other direction, waiting for an answer.

"...Yes." Harley eventually spoke.

Holding a finger up, Joker furrowed his brow. "Careful."

Moving his hand towards her, he pushed his palm against her mouth. She knew that it was the hand with the tattooed smile, but she did not flinch or move. She continued to stare directly ahead, conflicted with her decisions and her words.

"Do not say this oath thoughtlessly." Joker closed his eyes and began to move his head in quick, snappy directions. "Desire becomes surrender. Surrender becomes power."

Slowly moving the hand down, Joker pulled down Harley's lip and held his index finger on it, before pulling it away. "I offer you a choice. You can say no and walk away and you will never hear from me again. I will leave you alone and you will never be able to find me. But if you say yes, then you will give yourself to me and I will leave you in the hands of fate. Then they will decide whether or not your destiny is to be with me."

"So I shall ask again," Joker breathed in. "Do you want this?"

"I do." Harley immediately replied. She had made her decision, her primal aspects coming out. She wanted this man, she needed this man. Her heart said yes but her brain said no. She had done the thing that she had wanted to do for the past few weeks.

Her playful side had taken control.

"Then say it. Say it." Joker closed his eyes and looked up, his face looking as if he was continually repeating the mantra of his life. "Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty..."

"Please?" The noise that came from Harley's mouth was different, changed. It begged like a small child, a plead from a girl who wanted to be loved.

"Aww..." Joker took a step back, smiling. "God, you're so...good."

Harley could see that there was now a look of absolute confliction in Joker's eyes. He seemed changed, taking a step back and allowing her to do what she felt was right. His eyes seemed to glisten from where she was standing, before he rubbed his hand down his face and took another deep breath.

"This is where it begins, or this is where it ends." Joker smiled. "I give you one final chance. You can walk away through the way we came, or you can fall."

Harley simply turned around and looked down at the vats below. With a breath, she took a step forwards and turned around. With a smile, she fell backwards in the shape of the crucifix. her arms outstretched and her legs together.

* * *

Watching from above, Joker looked down and watched her impact. She hit the chemical vat with a force, a large splash resounded all over the building. She seemed to squirm around a bit, before everything went calm and she sank to the bottom. He watched with curiosity to see exactly what she would do. Would she fight it? Would she burst from the liquid and try and save herself? Or would she accept whatever would come next and lie there, waiting for whatever would happen to happen.

With a sigh, Joker turned around and began to walk away.

He would leave her there. His job was done. She had been a thorn in his side for far too long and he had disposed of her in a way that he had disposed of all the others that had made the mistake to get addicted to him. There were countless skeletons in those vats, including many women who tried to suck up to the club owner whilst they were drunk and dancing. That was the fate of a woman who loved the Clown Prince.

As he went to leave the room, however, something stopped him. He had done this countless times before, he just needed to grow a pair and walk out. He could just leave her to the fate that she had chosen and wipe his hands clean of Harleen Quinzel forevermore, another name he had used for his own devices.

But he couldn't.

There was something about her. He felt it deep inside. Ever since that fateful day when he had changed into what he was now, he had forgotten the feeling of love. He did not remember anything from his past life, including his own name. He was the Joker, the Clown Prince of Crime, the Jester of Genocide, the Harlequin of Hate. But he had not always been a monster like he was.,

Deep down, he had feelings buried within.

There had been someone, a memory from his past life. He had not lied to Harleen when she had fallen for him, he believed that he had once had a wife. Her name he did not know, he did not know her face. But Joker remembered her warmth, her touch. She was perfect, and Harleen reminded him of her. She was so caring, the way that she had hunted him down completely by herself. The fact that she wanted him so bad that she was willing to risk her life for it without any remorse or regret, something that all of the girls before had felt before they fell. She was perfect, willing to die for the chance to be with the person that she believed held her heart.

And he was going to leave her to die.

With a loud, audible growl, the Joker removed his blazer and turned around. Throwing i down to the floor with force, he nodded his head and ran towards the gap. This was it, he had made a choice that would forever change his life. This woman was his perfect partner in crime, the one that he could spend his life with. He did not know what love was, but he felt compelled to save her. He did not know how to love, but he would not let this woman die on this night like he had so many others.

With a deep breath, he hit the chemicals in the tank.

* * *

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Harley knew that she was falling, watching her descent from all around her. She was omniciscient, as if she could see, feel and know everything around her. She knew that she was falling to what could be her inevitable death, but she had no regrets. She had fallen for the man she loved, she had spent her final moments with him and could make peace with that. Whether or not he had it in his heart to love her back was a completely different story.

Hitting the top of the chemicals, Harley felt herself submerge. Her glasses immediately being removed from her face as she hit the immovable object. She did not float, but immediately started to fall to the bottom of the tank. She could not speak, she could not scream, she could not think and she could not breathe. She simply lay there, her eyes closed, and waited for whatever would happen. She could not fight it, it was too thick for that. It was exactly how the Joker had described it would be, burning all over as she felt it on her skin. It burned and stung like nothing she had ever felt before. She wanted to scream but knew that she could not. She had her eyes shut tight and felt herself becoming increasingly consumed by the darkness of her eyelids. There was nothing that she could do that would save her.

She wanted to climb out, to be able to swim up and get out of the vat but she simply could not will herself to do so. The pain was unbelievable, something that she had never thought she would feel. The burning was horrendous, her whole body on fire as she swirled around inside the tank, trying to find the willpower to get up and fight. She would never feel a pain as bad as the one she was feeling now.

As she fought, she swore that she heard another splash. It may have been her willing herself to fight and had slammed her hand, but Harley did not think so. She simply closed her eyes and allowed herself to be taken by whatever fate that she had found herself in, the burning getting under her skin and onto her bones. She felt her whole skeleton alight with the chemical flames, and there was absolutely nothing that she could do to fight for it.

Suddenly, she felt arms wrap around her. She did not know whether or not it was real life or whether it was one of the fantasies of her unconscious mind. Harley felt herself being risen from the tank, eventually breaking through the top of the chemicals and feeling the fresh air hit her skin once again, causing it to burn harder and more painfully than she had ever felt it before. It felt different, as if she was a spaceship that was burning up upon her entry into the planet's orbit.

She then felt a kiss being planted on her lips. She felt oxygen being pumped back into her lungs. She felt whatever the hell was going on spurring her back to life, allowing her to open her eyes and take a sharp intake of breath. Looking around in shock, she found the Joker staring up at her, the greenish-white liquid covering his face and clothes it had also done with hers. She smiled and looked at him, her eyesight seemingly better than it had ever been before.

Looking around, Harley saw the swirl of blue from her shirt and the pink from his shirt. She saw them swirl around her and cover her the parts of her hair that were still submerged, before she was lifted even further out of the chemicals and fully into the Joker's iron-clad grasp. In response, she grabbed the back of his head with her hands and pulled his head in for another kiss once again.

He followed it for a few seconds, before breaking away and cackling maniacally as he did into the air, looking straight up as he did so. The chemicals around them mixed and turned purple, forcing her to pull herself upwards into a hug with her lover.

As she looked around, she felt different. There was no rationality, there was chaos. The pain had wiped out the society in her, even more so than the electricity. The fire still burned on her skin, almost uncontrollably, and she did the only reasonable thing. It was the exact same thing that her puddin' had done.

She laughed.

Harley giggled like a schoolgirl along with him, holding him tight and never wanting to let him go. She felt the voices in her head even more powerfully than she had ever felt them before, egging her and congratulating her for her decision.

It made her feel happy.

She had silenced Harleen Quinzel.

From that moment onwards, there was only Harley Quinn.

And that was perfect for her.


	20. The Grin and Bare It

Climbing out of the chemical vat almost immediately, Harley still felt the after-effects of her experience. Her skin burned like wildfire, the very top layers of her flesh tingling with a heat that she could not describe. It was if the acid had seeped deep into her very pores and was beginning to burn her on the inside, setting her aflame in a place where she could not do anything at all to stop it from happening. She knew that the Joker had not been lying now, even after he had tried to convince her that he had done just that. The pain that he had felt when he had described his transformation was unreal to her whilst she was sat behind an office desk, but now she was feeling it felt far too real for her to handle. She did not what to do, how to fight the pain she was in or if she could do something, anything, to ease the pain that consumed her.

So she did the most natural thing to popped into her deluded mind.

She continued to laugh.

Pushing herself against the chemical vat, Harley slumped down and burst into a fit of childish laughter. She could not control herself. She had to do whatever she could in order to ease the pain that seared through her body, that bleached and changed her flesh in ways that she could not describe. She wanted to curl up into a ball and scream, but found that her vocal chords were shot. The only thing that Harley could muster was the childish giggle of a little schoolgirl who had just seen something hilarious. It was all she could muster, telling her brain to accept the hilarity of the situation that she found herself in and to simply forget about the alarms and screaming sirens that her body was setting off all over her insides.

Whilst she tried to control the pain she was in, the Joker simply climbed out and stumbled forwards, the pain he had once felt obviously affecting him as well. Harley could see that he was handling it a lot better than she was, but could also tell fairly well that he was in a large amount of pain. He had felt it before, yes, but she knew that he did not like it and would have preferred to have never felt it again. Harley watched in amusement as the Joker gritted his teeth and walked around in circles, outstretching his hands in an effort to loosen the t-shirt he was wearing, which now had multiple bleached patches and was covered in a greenish-white chemical goo.

Seeing that he could not do anything about it, Joker simply growled at the top of his voice and ripped the t-shirt he was wearing off and onto the floor, freeing his torso and allowing the air to fully hit it. He then began to voice his signature cackle, before turning it into a high-pitched ending that shocked Harley when she heard it. He then looked around with widened eyes before finally setting them on her, watching her as she held her knees and continued to giggle.

"Well, that was intense, wasn't it?" Joker chuckled. "Just...wow."

Harley simply looked and smiled at him, staring at him in all of his glory. The antisocial, psychopathic freak that stood before her was a sight to behold. She saw him more clearly than she had done back in Arkham, she saw him for what he truly was. The series of tattoos that ranged across his body, the multiple smiles and images of laughter and the clown paraphenelia, it showed him off as an icon, a brand. He was a living, breathing work of art, she could see that now. Joker saw himself as a symbol, a living breathing testament to the new form of crime in Gotham City. Gone were the days of drive-bys and muggings, he had brought in a new age of organized crime and control.

But somehow, deep down, Harley could see that Joker had been changed by the process that they had gone through. She did not know what had happened to her, but she could tell that certain strands of the Joker's hair that had fallen out of place seemed lighter, as if the roots on his head had become an even lighter shade of neon green. She could see that it had changed him in such a small way, adding to the larger part of his body that had been morphed by those same, familiar chemicals.

Eventually, the Joker simply walked over to Harley and sat down beside her, breathing heavily with chuckles in between. Lying her head on his shoulder, the two of them just sat there, taking in the world around them. They shared their pain, laughing it off the best they could while also gaining reason and purpose to go on. Harley found it so peaceful, so time-consuming. She felt as they she could sit there with him forevermore, in their bleached-marked clothing, watching the world go by without a care.

Unfortunately for her, the Joker did not feel the same way. After about a few minutes, which felt like hours in the twisted, mentally-abused mind of Harley Quinn, Joker stood up and dusted himself off. He then looked down at her and sighed, before holding his hand out and beckoning her to take it.

"Come on." Joker smiled. "We've got places to be."

Despite her pain and her desire to sit down and try and work through the pain she was currently in, Harley nodded and allowed herself to be helped up to her feet. She knew that she could not simply sit there and watch the world go by, her puddin' had things to do and she wanted to be there when he did them. She did her best to ignore the burning underneath her skin, wishing to herself that it would soon wear off as most pain did.

She followed him without reason or rhyme, absent-mindedly looking around and twirling her hair as he made his way through the various doors and corridors in the chemical plant that would eventually lead to the fire exit that they had entered through. Harley was shocked at how well the Joker knew the insides of the chemical plant. She knew that he basically owned the place, but she did not think that he would have visited the place very often, especially with his vast criminal empire to run.

As they walked, however, Harley began to notice more and more about what exactly had happened. She saw that her skin had turned as white as the Joker's, her hair become a lighter shade of blonde. The bottom her hair looked as if she had dip-dyed it, half pink from the Joker's shirt dye and the other half blue from her shirt dye. She could not believe what she was seeing. She was anxious to get home and check herself out, to see whether or not she had become more and more like her Mr. J.

Returning back to the luxurious car that was parked in the middle of the parking lot, Joker and Harley quicky got in and set off towards their new destination. The Joker seemed to be a lot more erratic, a lot more figety and troubled than usual. Harley watched in curiosity and put it down to the tingling under his skin, the burning sensation from where the chemicals had touched his skin. She felt it as much as he did, but Harley understood fully well that the Joker had not thought to feel the pain that had changed him into what he was ever since he had that fateful day.

"Puddin'." Harley chimed in, watching the speeding city out of the window.

Joker's ears immediately perked up. She wanted to see how he would react to being called that, the nickname that he had said he enjoyed being called. "Hm?"

"Where are we going?" Harley turned her head in his direction.

"A very special place." Joker grinned. "The heart of my kingdom. The glorious palace that is my very own nightclub, the fabulous establishment that is the Grin and Bare It."

"Grin and Bare It?" Harley giggled. "Really?"

Joker simply growled and looked at her, furrowing his brow. Harley immediately pouted in response and folded her arms like a child. She did not speak for the rest of the journey, simpy frowning and staring out of the window as she watched the world pass her by, looking on at parts of Gotham City that she had never thought that she would ever see before. She thought that the seedy underbelly that she had always heard of would have been run-down and barren, but Harley found it to be one of the most respectable and well looked after districts in the City.

Eventually, Harley's eyes fell upon the Grin and Bare It. Located in what looked to be a type of cul-de-sac in the middle of an area of commerce, it was a large, almost fair-ground like building with a large neon orange sign on the top, telling everyone the name and where to come for quality entertainment. There was no dying that it was more than just a nightclub, including the skantily-clad women that stood outside to welcome drunken partiers or members of the public in need of a good night out into the building and to instruct them on exactly what to do. Harley couldn't believe what she was seeing, the lines at the front of the building were almost as long as the width of the building itself, the red carpet only going as far as the brick walling that separated the club from the rest of the street. Harley knew that it must have been one of the more popular clubs in the area, having seen many others in the area during their drive. The only one Harley had seen that could compare to Joker's club was a place called 'The Iceberg Lounge', which Harley had seen looked more of a socialite area than what Joker's was.

Driving straight through the gap between the walls and taking a turn into the parking lot, Joker and Harley quickly exited the car. The two of them did not even bother to take one of the parking spots, which slightly confused Harley. Trying not to dwell on it, Harley followed Joker as he went to walk towards the entrance. However, they had barely made it two steps away from the vehicle before he they immediately beset upon by a member of the staff, who simply smiled at Joker.

"Mister J." He nodded. "It's an honour to see you this evening."

"Whatever." Joker rolled his eyes, dropping his car keys in the man's hand.

He did not have to say anything before the man nodded and scurried off towards the car. Harley watched with a smile as he carefully opened the door and took a seat behind the wheel, before ever so carefully beginning to drive towards the back of the club. It was plain as day to Harley about how much the members of the Joker's empire feared him, the sheer terror he inflicted on them in a glance was enough to make the toughest of men submit to his authority. She knew now that he was one of the main players in Gotham City's underworld for a reason.

Walking towards the entrance, the bouncer immediately stopped the influx of people entering the building and held the door open for Joker.

"Evening, J." He grunted.

Joker did not answer but simply kept walking forwards. It seemed like he paid no attention whatsoever to the lower-level goons in his organization. They were just grunts to him, cannon fodder to be thrown at his enemies and rivals. There was no care, no relationship between the boss and his cronies. They were meat to be used to kill and Joker did not need to know them before they died for him. He simply talked to his main men and that was it; they handled the rest.

As Harley went to walk through to follow, the bouncer made no attempts to stop her. It seemed that he knew that the Joker would no doubt do something heinous to him if he even dared lay a hand on the girl that had gotten out of the passenger seat of his car. It was something that Harley respected the bouncer for, the fear that he had of her. The power that she had over him.

Moving down the stairs, Harley could hear the music getting louder and louder as they groups of people began to get larger and larger. She wondered how many people could fit into a club like this, but Harley had never underestimated the Joker in any way than how he saw his headquarters. Finally hitting the main floor, Harley could not believe what exactly she was seeing. The multiple gold cages that held the dancers who swung from painted gold steel link-chains, the gold-encrusted runway that started from the stairs and ran the length and width of the club in a cross-like shape, a runway for dancers to make their way to different areas. Multiple chandeliers hung from the roof as pure decoration, emitting a very dull white light that barely lit up the place. That job was for the strobe lights, which pulsed around so much it would have set the mildest of epileptic problems off in a second. And at the very far end of the club, near the very end of the runway was the VIP area. From what Harley could see of her limited vantage point was a very large sofa that spanned the length of the area, with a large coffee table and a vantage point of the entire dance floor.

Not being given much time to take it all in, Harley was quickly whisked onto the runway by her spectacular lover. With a cackle, he outstretched his hands and began to walk down the runway, gathering the attention of the people who stood below them, dancing with drinks in-hand. Harley did not know how many of them must have been down there, but the crowds were exotic. There was no doubt in her mind that this was one of the best clubs in Gotham City for a reason, and that was because the atmosphere was breath-taking. She could barely hear herself think of the roar of the music, the live DJ in the far corner of the room doing his best to make the night one of his best.

Making his way directly to the middle of the runway, Joker cackled loudly as the people down below turned to both him and Harley. They began to chant his name in a chorus, everyone knowing the face of the man who ran the place. His influence was undeniable, the amount of power that he held unmistakable. He was the King of Gotham City, it was plain and simple to see. And there was absolutely no-one that could get in his way.

Eventually, having been paraded around for quite a while, Joker and Harley made their way through the crowds and upstairs into the main offices. When they arrived, Harley found that two people were waiting for them. One of the men Harley had come into contact with before, the man that had knocked her out during the Joker's breakout. This time, however, he was not dressed in the security outfit for the Asylum. Instead, he was dressed more lavishly in a grey three-piece suit. His beard was perfectly trimmed and his hair parted stylishly. He was quite stocky and well-built, an imposing figure to do thw Joker's dirty work for him, but he was nothing compared to the other.

A large man, more muscular than the Joker and his main man combined. A dark-skinned, bald man with veins that rippled on his muscles and flesh. The man looked as if he could crush either man in the room if he wanted to. Dressed in a plain white vest and some black suit pants, including well-polished black loafers, the man looked ready for business. He wore a gold chain around his neck and had a gold ring hanging from both ears. Cracking his neck to the side as they approached, he unnerved Harley from the very first moment the shared the same air.

The black man did not seem too bothered by Harley's presence, but the other had other ideas. He raised his eyebrows and looked quite shocked, before locking eyes with the Joker and grinning with an impressed look in his eyes.

"Boss." The man spoke. "Is that...?"

"Very intuitive, Jonny." Joker smiled. "You are correct. This is Harleen Quinzel."

Harley smiled in a shy, childish fashion.

"Jesus, Boss." Jonny chuckled. "What did you do to her?"

"What do you mean?" Joker's face darkened.

"She, ya know," Jonny stuttered. "She looks like you."

"And that's a bad thing?" Harley perked up.

"Was I talking to you?" Jonny snapped back.

Joker immediately stepped forwards.

"Careful." Joker held up his finger. "Disrespect her, you disrespect me. Understand?"

"Yes, Boss." Jonny nodded. "Sorry, Boss."

"Very good." Joker then moved towards his desk, beckoning Harley forwards. "Now, allow me to introduce you to the newest member of our gang!"

He smiled at Harley.

"My friends." Joker clapped his hands together. "May I present to you, the newly-crowned Queen of Gotham City, the one, the only, the magnificent suicide blonde that can only be known as Harley Quinn!"

As soon as she heard her name, her new name, being spoken, Harley curtsied.

"Harley, allow me to introduce to you the men behind this organization." Joker grinned. "This is my right-hand, good ol' Jonny Frost. He never lets me down."

"And this," Joker turned to Monty. "This machine is the muscle of this gang. You need someone's head kicking in, you come to Monty here. He'll take care of ya if I can't."

Both men nodded and then turned their backs to Harley, allowing her to come up in the space between them and lie her hands on the desk.

"Now, down to business." Joker sighed. "Have we heard anything at all from..."

At that moment, a round of gunfire set off, followed quickly by a round of screaming. A man, obviously one of Joker's goons, ran up the stairs and looked at them all.

"Boss!" The man panted. "It's Penguin! He's here!"

Joker simply cackled.

"Cobblepot's making a play." Joker folded his arms. "How very disrespectful. If our good friend Oswald wants to come to my establishment and try to show me up in front of my patrons, than I say we give him a show."

"Let's give him a show then, shall we?" Harley perked up, her thick accent coming out fully in her words.

Joker turned to Harley, and the pair of them locked eyes.

As if in dual partnership, the Royal Family of Gotham City grinned, the fire of anarchy burning in their eyes.


	21. Cobblepot's Coup

**Hello one and all, I'm back again. Sorry for the long break in between chapters 20 and 21, I truly am. This has been one of the hardest chapters to write for this story, I won't lie. I don't know how but writer's block has effected me the most over the October month and every time I've sat down to write this chapter, I've gone blank. Luckily, I managed to get it done over the Halloween period (That Joker spirit must have been with me lmao) and it's here for you all.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Creeping down the stairs, Harley watched the Joker with a grin. He seemed devilish and unlike the calm, collected and charming man that she had known before. No, now he had turned into this rabid animal, this manipulative horror that had one plan in mind. This was the Joker that the people of Gotham feared, the one that the news and the tabloids knew, this was the terrorist hidden underneath the skin. With his one plan in mind, Joker slowly pushed the door to the ground floor open and crept inside, shushing the scared party-goers to make sure none of them attracted attention to him and spoiled his plan. Gripping her now-signature bat in her hands, Harley giggled in delight and followed him.

Going down onto her knees and following him, Harley smiled. This was her chance, perhaps one of her only chances ever, to impress the Joker and show that she was more than just a pretty face and candy on his arm. She was determined to prove to him that she was tough, that she was better than he thought she was. And if it meant throwing herself in front of one of Penguin's bullets to do it, then that's exactly what she would do.

The entire of the nightclub floor was quiet, except for the absent music that was being played over the sound speakers. Every partygoer that had once been enjoying their night was now lying on the floor or crouching down in shock, whimpering and clutching their knees. The pure fear, the anxiety and the dread that Harley saw in the eyes of the people around her, it showed her what the true underbelly of Gotham City was like. The fear that this man, that the Penguin, could control and operate by waltzing into a nightclub was unbelievable. The power at the man's fingertips, it rivalled that of the Joker himself.

As Harley and the Joker stared at one another, she could see the plotting that was going on inside the skull of the Clown Prince. She could see the psychopath behind his eyes, the true form of the King of Gotham. Harley watched intently as her puddin' formed his plan, looking down at the floor and muttering to himself. Eventually, his plotting is interrupted by the sound of gunfire from the entrance of the club. Snapping his head towards the sound, Harley watched as Joker looked upon the scene like a rabid dog. His eyes wide and a sinister, yellowed grin upon his face, Joker slowly reached and grabbed hold of his revolver.

Before he could move any further, Joker's movements were cut short by the sound of a yell. The vocal chords made the voice sound English and quite royal, as far as Harley could tell.

"Turn that bloody music off!" The voice cried out. "It's giving me a goddamn headache!"

Hearing the orders, almost in complete servitude, Harley watched as a gun fired off towards the DJ area. The initial firing shocked her a little, but a stern look from the Joker made sure that she did not make a single noise. It did not shock him, he didn't even flinch. Joker simply furrowed his brow and placed his finger over his mouth, and of course Harley listened.

"Now, that's better." The voice called out once again, this time making grunts as if they were climbing something. "I can actually hear myself think again!"

Looking over, Harley watched as this lean man in his mid-twenties climbed onto the rampart in the middle of the club. If this was the Penguin that she had heard so much about, then Harley was certainly shocked. She had expected someone a lot more…penguin-like. Short, perhaps balding with a nose like a beak. This man was nothing like that. He had nicely-cut, trimmed black hair with a five o'clock shadow, as well as his lean-muscular build adding to his attractiveness. Harley thought he was rather good-looking, albeit knowing that he would never be as good as Mr. J was.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, I'm here to make a statement." The man spoke in his thick, British accent, waving a handgun around like it was a plastic toy. "My boys and I, we're not here to cause you any harm. We're just here to send a message. So, if everybody relaxes and allows us to do the job that we came to do, then we'll get along just smashing."

Turning around to look at the little gang he brought with him, or at least Harley thought he was, the man waved two fingers in a circular motion. "Spread out and find the Joker."

At this point, Harley could see that the Joker was livid. If he was an animal, he would be foaming at the mouth. The fact that the man had waltzed into his place of work, his own fine establishment and wrought havoc to send a simple message had Joker gripped the grip of his revolver as tightly as he could. With a growl, Harley watched in shock as Joker climbed up onto the walkway directly in front of the man.

"Oswald, my dear friend!" Joker exclaimed, holding his hands out. "What are you doing?"

"Don't call me, 'friend', you scum!" Oswald snarled. "You'll pay for what you did!"

Harley watched as Joker's mouth slowly dropped open, as if he was operated like a puppet. His right arm slowly went limp as he slanted his head and stared at Oswald. "What?"

"You heard me!" Oswald cried. "You'll pay for what you did to my restaurant!"

Immediately throwing his hands up into the air, Joker cackled but did not take his eyes from Oswald, still locked in eye contact with him. "That's what this is about? That old, run-down little shack that smelt disgustingly like fish? It deserved to be shot up."

"Don't you…don't you dare!" Oswald raised his eyebrows and snapped his handgun towards Joker, which automatically made Joker's hand shoot up to do the same. "That restaurant has been in my family for generations! It has history!"

"Careful, Oswald." Joker took a step forwards and held his hands out. "It's unwise to threaten a man in his own home. It's very…disrespectful."

Harley watched the entire confrontation in awe, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Every now and again she let a giggle leave her vocal chords, excited about the potential explosion that could happen from the meeting of these two men.

"You think I give a damn about respect for you?! You're nothing, Joker! Nothing to me!" Penguin gritted his teeth. "You're worth less than the dirt on my heel."

"Then what does that make you, Penguin?" Joker snarled. "Where does that leave you on the food chain? If I'm a small, insignificant little piece of dirt, then you're a tiny little speck of dust that nobody ever notices. Just like your family, Oswald, you're insignificant. A remaining piece of the relic that was the Cobblepot family."

"Enough of this!" Penguin roared. "Lads, light this clown up like a Christmas tree!"

Almost immediately, Harley heard the guns click on the rifles of Penguin's men. Jumping into action, she jumped onto the rampart and twirled the bat between her hands, causing all of Penguin's goons to stop in shock and for the Joker to cackle once more. Locking eyes with the nearest thug, Harley ran and dove off the stage, swinging the bat in the direction of the man's face and connecting swiftly with his cheek. Stamping her high heel down into his chest for an audible scream, she swung the bat down onto his forehead and knocked him clean out.

"Who in the hell is she?!" The Penguin roared once more, his finger directly pointing at Harley, who was now innocently swinging her now-bloodied baseball bat.

"That, my friend, is the new Queen of Gotham City." Joker took another step forward. "Bow down and pay homage, Penguin. Bow down to the wonder that is Harley Quinn."

Penguin chuckled. "You've got to be joking. Where the hell did you get someone as freaky-looking as you…"

Before he could finish his sentence, Harley watched as Joker slammed his fist straight into Penguin's mouth, dropping him straight down onto his back. His lip bloodied and his face bruised from all of Joker's rings, Penguin looked up delirious and dazed. The man's plan certainly hadn't gone to plan at all. Harley simply stood and stared as the Joker stalked Penguin like a predator, pointing his revolver at Penguin's face with a single thought in mind.

"Now that…that was not funny, Cobblepot." Joker gritted his teeth. "Not funny at all."

Penguin didn't even respond, he just dropped his head and growled under his breath. Harley watched in awe, on her knees holding the edge of the rampart with both hands, as Joker made an example of the man that had entered their palace and ran havoc with their guests. Harley looked upon Penguin with disgust, as a man that did not know his place. Joker was the King of Gotham City and she was his queen, he did not have the right or place to disrespect her in such a way as he had done. Watching as Joker dropped his revolver beside him and gripped Penguin by the back of his perfectly combed hair, Harley cackled as Joker simply stared and smiled into his enemy's face, his metal grills glistening in the lights.

As many more of the Joker Gang swept into the building from the back room and the front entrance, they caught Penguin's mobsters off-guard due to their interest and shock about how quick their leader had been put to shame. Harley watched with a grin as many surrendered and put their guns down, submitting themselves to the torment that would no doubt come from choosing the wrong gang to side with in the gang war for control of Gotham.

"Now…what should we do with you? Hm?" Joker made a look of confusion, biting down on his tongue gently as he looked around.

At this point, Harley climbed up onto the rampart and knelt in front of Penguin. She stared at him with contempt, before slowly pulling away and giggling in the cutest manner that she could possibly muster in her insane mind. Looking up at Joker, she smiled and cocked her head to the side. "Teach him a lesson, Puddin'. Show him why we're on top."

Joker simply cackled and pushed him back to the floor. Without hesitation or warning, Harley felt her body reaching for her baseball bat. However, as she looked to do so, something started to scream inside her mind. She felt it, like a drum being played on the inside of her skull. It stopped her dead in her tracks and caused her to grit her teeth and scrunch her eyes up in shock. She recognized this scream as one of Harleen Quinzel's, the cry she made before an electric current torched her personality and left her clinging onto reality. She felt Harleen on the inside of her head, in one final attempt to stop her from doing something that should could possibly later regret. This was it, one of the last turning points in her life. Was she able to remorselessly hand over the weapon that could lead to this man's brains being beaten into a pulp and dropped all over the rampart?

Was this her now? The remorseless killer sidekick of the Clown Prince of Crime? Is that what she had become? The prized second-in-command of the Joker Gang? She had been brainwashed and moulded over months of therapy by this man, her brain and her body morphed into something that he wanted by his side. From the first day the two of them sat down, Harley knew that she should have been playing by her rules.

But they weren't.

She made the mistake of placing her trust in the hands of a madman. And this is where he had landed her. No remorse, no shame, no conscience. Not just another criminal on the rungs of the Gotham City underworld, but the partner of the man who ruled Gotham City, the man that she had fallen so helplessly in love with.

So, yes. Yes, she was able.

Snapping back into reality after a few seconds, Harley giggled and threw the bat in Joker's direction without any mercy or remorse towards the Penguin. Immediately catching it with excellent reflexes, Joker turned his attention to Penguin. Pulling him up onto his knees, Harley watched with a sinister grin as the two men, the two rivals, locked eyes. There was a look of understanding in Penguin's eyes, a look of knowing. He knew that his plan had failed and that he was subject to whatever fate was left for him and he would face it head held high and with dignity.

"So, where should we start?" Joker grinned, tapping his fingernails on the bat with eagerness as he scanned across Penguin's body. "Hmm…. there."

Harley jumped back a little in shock as Joker connected the bat with Penguin's cheek, sending him tumbling back down to the ground with a yelp, bloody saliva following him down. After taking a split second to gather her bearings, Harley looked at Joker and applauded him, cheering for him as he stood over Penguin again.

"This is what happens, Cobblepot." Joker grinned. "This is what happens when you undermine me. You see, Oswald, you are quite deluded. You believed that I wouldn't know what you were up to? You think this wasn't all planned? I know a rat when I see one, Oswald, and I saw you from a mile away."

Penguin simply turned his head and spat blood in Joker's direction, albeit barely touching him with it. "You…"

"Hm?" Joker bent down, leaning his weight on the bat. "Didn't catch that?"

In response, Penguin simply groaned.

"Just what I thought." Standing up, Joker rolled his head in a circular fashion before smiling once again. "Now, back to business."

With a yelp of her own, Harley's eyes widened as Joker brought the baseball bat down Penguin's left knee, wood colliding with bone horrifically as Penguin cried out in pain. She watched as he smashed it down a few more times, before throwing the bat away carelessly in Harley's direction. Quickly running to pick it up, Harley watched as Penguin held his knee with a grimace, whimpering a little as Joker stood over him.

"I'm the one in charge here, Cobblepot." Joker folded his arms. "And this is what happens to people who don't respect that. But you should be thankful, I only broke your kneecap!"

With a cackle, Joker kicked Penguin in the face in a playful manner and quickly knocked him down and out, ending the whole coup in spectacular fashion. Dusting his hands off and rubbing them on his suit pants, Joker picked up his revolver and twirled it on his finger aimlessly, before looking over and absent-mindedly firing at one of Penguin's goons who had just surrendered, the bullet connecting right in his heart area.

"Jonny!" Joker growled in that direction, causing Jonny Frost to appear out of the crowd of cowering civilians. "Get rid of him. I don't know how, just do it."

Without a word, Jonny nodded and looked down at Penguin, shaking his head with a sigh. Joker simply jumped down next to Harley and flexed his shoulders, before looking at her with a large grin plastered to his face.

"Well, that was fun."

Without another word, Harley watched as Joker walked straight past her and back towards the back room, kicking the dead Penguin goon in the stomach on his way past. Harley's look of shock slowly faded away into her own grin, before she smiled and quickly jogged to catch up to her Puddin'.


End file.
